Written in the Sand
by Shadowphoenix
Summary: Sequel to One Moment (Part 4 of Embers and Ashes). When everything is gone, there is nothing left to lose. And sometimes, the price of everything that was, is everything that could have been. (Slash SSHP) In progress
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1: Potter's Field 

The scratching rasp of a boot scrapping over stone echoed sharply through the silence as Draco came to a staggering stop at the end of the path. On his wild flight back to the castle, he had been unable to breathe; all of his concentration was focused on the simple act of running. Now, as he stood there, he could not breathe for the sheer horror of the landscape stretching out before him.

He hadn't recognized where he was, initially. In fact, Draco would have kept running, determined to reach the grounds, had he not glimpsed the carnage strewn as far as the eye could see and realized that this _was_ Hogwarts. At least, this was where Hogwarts _used_ to be, before the castle had been blasted from the earth and the ground littered with the bodies of attackers and defenders alike. _Name of the gods…_

Eyes wide, Draco could only look upon the desolation with surreal astonishment.

The ground was blackened and bare, the trees and shrubs that dotted the surrounding area were charred and leafless, as if a raging wildfire had swept over the land, burning everything in its path. The lake was laden with dirt and debris, its surface murky and still. And the Forbidden Forest… Draco couldn't believe his eyes. The Forbidden Forest was _gone_, vanished as if it had never been.

Somewhere above him came the long, mournful trill of a phoenix.

_My gods, what happened here?_ What had happened, that had withered the land? What had happened, that had caused the Forbidden Forest not to burn, as had the rest of the vegetation, but to disappear completely? What had happened, that had destroyed the world?

"It's gone."

Draco did not turn to face her, as Hermione stepped up beside him. He had not been aware of her approach. He hadn't even known that she had followed him.

"It's all gone," she repeated in a breathless, disbelieving voice.

"Did you think he was joking," Draco replied, his voice sounding brittle to his ears, "when he said he was going to destroy the castle?"

"Can't you feel it?" Hermione demanded sharply.

_I can't feel anything._ Draco shook the thought away. "What are you talking about?"

"Everything is dead."

Draco rounded on her furiously, the angry rebuke for her callousness dying unspoken on his lips as her words penetrated the veil of shocked horror that had damped his senses. The air was still, without the hint of a breeze. The land itself was desiccated, silent and empty. And everything magical was gone. The _magic_ was _gone._

Draco felt his eyes widen even further, as he instinctively cast about himself, looking for even the smallest shred of an answer. _But that's not possible! The magic can't just disappear! It's _magic_! It doesn't run out. It damn well doesn't go away!_ Only, apparently, it had. And as it had passed from the world, it had erased everything that had ever relied on it for survival. _This just isn't possible_. _What in the nine hells is going on?_

"We should go, Malfoy."

Draco blinked away his thoughts. "We can't." The words slipped out of their own volition. _I can't leave. Not yet. Not until I know if…_ A wash of icy numbness swept over him, drowning out the disbelief.

"The wards are gone," she persisted, her words sounding too hollow and forced to be normal. "We can Apparate away now."

"We have to look, Hermione."

"They're _dead_!" Hermione hissed in a voice broken with fear and grief. "Anyone who could have gotten away would have. There isn't anyone left alive here."

"We don't know that!"

"Damn it, Malfoy-"

"Stay here, then!" Draco snarled, his tumultuous emotions finally finding an outlet in anger. "Wait here for me, if you're too damn scared!" Spinning on his heel, Draco stalked off without another word, heading off the path and across the grounds.

He had barely put any distance between them before he heard the hurried steps behind him, before he felt a hand grab his arm and jerk him to a halt.

"Wait."

Draco did not turn to face her. Instead he stood stiffly where she had stopped him; his eyes focused blindly on some distant point in front of him. "I have to know, Hermione," he told her quietly, his words forced out through clenched teeth. "I know that… There's no chance that… I just can't walk away. If I don't see for myself, the 'what if' will haunt me the rest of my life. What if I had looked? What if I had gotten there sooner?" Draco shook his head. "I don't _want_ to see. I don't. But I _have _to."

"I know," he heard her whisper. "I just… I don't know if I can bear it."

He tilted his head to the side, giving her a sidelong glance from the corner of his eye. "You can bear it."

"How would you know?"

"Because there is no other choice." _Because I have lost as much as you._

After a moment, Draco felt her hand slowly relinquish its grip on his arm. "I'll come with you," she murmured softly. "I don't want to stay here alone."

The slight inclination of his head was all the acknowledgement Draco gave her as they began to walk again. There were no enemies left lurking on the grounds – everything was too devastated to supply a safe harbor in which to hide. And no matter how far he sent his mind in search of the smallest spark of life, all Draco could feel was death echoing back to him. There was nothing to fear, nothing left but empty places filled with the tattered ghosts of the past.

_I wonder if she ever imagined that she would find comfort in _my_ presence?_ Draco mused as they moved among the dead. It was easier if he thought about something else, _anything else_, than what he was searching for in the faces of the nameless Muggle corpses. _Who would have thought that the two of us would ever find ourselves on the same side? Funny, the things that bind people together._ Draco wished that he could laugh at the irony of it all. His younger self might have, if he wasn't too preoccupied with being violently ill at the notion of what just what it had taken, to tie the Mudblood and the pureblood together. Draco's eyes scanned the panorama before them. _How the mighty have fallen, indeed._

"Malfoy!" Hermione whispered urgently, grabbing his arm again and startling him out of his thoughts.

Ever so slowly, unable to breathe, Draco turned his head to see what it was her shaking finger was pointing at. His breath left his lungs in a rush of horrified relief.

"We must be near the greenhouses," Draco murmured a moment later, glancing up from the bullet-riddled body of the late Professor Sprout. "Come on. There's nothing we can do for her."

Draco moved away impatiently, feeling the anxiety building up inside him. It was clawing at his mind, screaming at him to _hurry, hurry before it was too late._ His pace quickened. Still clinging to his arm, Hermione had no choice but to stumble after him. Draco paid her no notice.

They found others, as they scoured the grounds: Flitwick, Sinistra, Hooch, Vector. Even Trelawny. But of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, there was no sign. Draco needed only to look back over his shoulder at the cracked and blasted earth where the school once stood to know that they would never be found.

_"I myself will be remaining behind, both to provide a distraction to the army until I am ensured of the success of the children's flight, and to destroy the castle."_

_ "Albus will not be alone in this. I will be staying behind as well."_

The anxiety grew, as they made their way past the site of the Forbidden Forest and approached the lake. It was the only place they hadn't yet searched. If they found nothing here… _They're dead_, Draco told himself harshly, abruptly cutting off that particular train of thought. _You cannot afford to start indulging in hope. They're gone. By now you ought to know better. There are no happy endings._

It was as they were cresting a rise that Draco happened to look to his right and saw, some distance away, a crumpled shape lying on the ground where it had fallen. When he heard no outcry from Hermione, he risked a quick glance at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was still gazing about to her left, oblivious.

Twisting around, Draco came to a stop in her line of sight, keeping her back to the corpse that, thus far, only he had seen. "Hermione," he began at random, drawing her attention. "We're wasting too much time like this. Why don't we split up? We'll cover more ground that way. And maybe…" He shook his head, annoyed with himself for faltering, for _hoping_. "Look, why don't you search over there-" Draco pointed behind him in the direction that she had been looking, "-and I'll head over the other way."

"Are you sure you don't…" She trailed off as her eyes cast about warily, frightened trepidation written plainly across her face.

"Take Fawkes," Draco suggested smoothly. "That way you won't be alone."

_Just do it. For once in your damned life, don't argue with me._ Hermione's eyes searched his intently. After a moment of Draco returning her stare blandly, the Gryffindor nodded.

"Fawkes!" Hermione called, waving a hand in the air to attract the bird's attention and gesturing him to her side. Her eyes drifted back to Draco's. "If I find…"

"Yell. I'll hear you," Draco smiled a weak, humorless smile. "And I'll do the same."

Hermione nodded again and then set off in the direction that Draco had indicated without another word or backward glance. Draco remained where he stood, watching her until she had disappeared over the top of a hill. Only then, when he was certain that she wasn't going to change her mind and come back, did Draco turn, take a deep breath, and hurry toward the broken, battered shape that had once been Rubeus Hagrid.

At first glance, Draco knew the half-breed was dead. No one could be covered with that much blood, be punctured by that many bullets, and still be alive. He had not expected the giant to be alive. But he had still wanted to make sure.

"It's nothing personal," Draco told the groundskeeper quietly, as he stood there looking down at the body. "But I couldn't waste the time she'd take to weep over you. Afterwards, when I know, I'll bring her back so she can say goodbye. But right now…" He looked up, scanning the sky before looking back down at the man he had once despised. A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "Your magical creatures are gone, Hagrid. I'm glad you're not here to see it."

"_Draco_!"

Draco froze, his eyes widening as Hermione's cry reached his ears. _No. Oh gods, no… Not this._ He wasn't aware of blinking; he didn't notice his sharp intake of breath. Draco wasn't aware of spinning around, of running back across the distance that separated them. He wasn't aware of anything but a mind-numbing cold, a horrified denial that started screaming in the depths of his mind and would not stop. It took an eternity to reach Hermione's side. It took nothing more than a heartbeat.

"They're dead," Hermione whispered, before beginning to sob. "He's dead! Oh god… He's dead! _Harry_!"

Draco could barely hear her. The screaming in his mind, the rushing of blood in his ears, the pounding of his heart, the simple act of breathing was drowning out Hermione's voice. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. Air was moving in and out of his lungs, but his chest was so tight, Draco felt as if he could not breathe. All he _could_ do was stare helplessly, futilely down at the bodies lying discarded on the withered ground.

Harry lay on his back, his eyes mercifully closed beneath the crusted blood that coated his face. The scar that he had always hated, that had set him apart from everyone else, was gone; shattered by a gaping, gory hole that marked the entrance of a bullet. Next to his head, a bent pair of glasses lay forgotten on the ground, a starburst crack radiating from the corner of a lens.

Severus lay sprawled on his stomach where he had fallen, his back a sodden mass of blood and torn robes. One arm was flung out into the space between him and Harry. A pale hand lay half buried in the dirt, thin fingers inches from Harry's shoulder. He had obviously tried to reach the Gryffindor. He had failed.

Beside him, Hermione fell to her knees with her head in her hands. Draco did not notice her. Long minutes ticked by in an eternity frozen by grief.

Movement caught at the corner of his wide, staring eyes. Slowly, dragging his gaze away from the bodies of Severus and Harry as if he were in a dream, Draco turned.

It was a Muggle, struggling out from underneath the fallen body of a comrade. It had been injured, though from what, Draco could not tell. It was covered in blood, and while some of the blood must have come from the comrade, the halting movements of the Muggle attested to its own injuries. After a moment's struggle into a sitting position, the Muggle noticed Draco standing there.

Their eyes met.

"Help me," the Muggle croaked, clutching at its side with one hand. "Please… Help… me…"

Draco's eyes widened, as images flashed rapidly through his mind. Hogwarts, as seen from a broomstick high in the air. A blackened crater, where once the castle had stood. Piles of Muggles, lying haphazardly where the Killing Curses had felled them. A pale hand reaching futilely out into an impossible distance. Hagrid's body, contorted in the dirt. Emerald eyes, sparkling with mirth. Glittering obsidian, looking thoughtfully into the past. The devastated land. A pair of cracked, bent glasses.

Draco's eyes narrowed as something deep within him snapped.

Without consciously willing it, Draco's wand was in his hand.

"Malfoy, no!" Hermione shrieked behind him.

Draco ignored her.

The Muggle reached out its other hand.

Time seemed to grind to a halt.

The scream, when it ripped its way out of his throat, was like nothing Draco had ever heard before. He didn't recognize it as his own.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

A blinding flare of viridian light lit up the sky. Draco stared unflinchingly into the heart of the glare, heedless of the tears that began to stream from his watering eyes when he refused to look away.

The Muggles would die. One by one, he would hunt them down. Men, women, children, it made no difference. He would find them all, wherever they might hide. And for every life that had been extinguished, for each moment that had been lost, for every broken dream, he would cut them down; he would extract payment for everything that had been lost with their lives, until there were no more to take. Only then, when all the Muggles everywhere were dead, would he stop.

The green light faded away. With the afterimages still dancing across his vision, Draco glanced dispassionately at the now lifeless husk that had once been a Muggle with the audacity to live, when everyone else was dead. Though he saw nothing, Draco felt movement behind him and he instinctively whirled around, bringing his wand to bear as the words to the Killing Curse wrapped around his tongue.

Hermione stared at him down the length of the wood, her blood-shot eyes flat. "Are you going to kill me too, Malfoy?"

"You're not one of _them_."

"So you're going to play at being Voldemort now?" Hermione demanded, knocking the wand away from her face.

Draco smiled a lazy, predatory smile. "I care nothing for this world," he replied, drawing the distinction between himself and Voldemort. "And I'm not going to waste my time torturing _them_."

"_Stop it_!" Hermione hissed, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a shake that made his teeth come together with a clack. "Just stop it! It's not going to help, Malfoy. Killing Muggles won't bring them back. It won't change anything. It won't bring Harry back!"

"Let go of me," Draco said with deceptive mildness. "Right now."

"Or what?" She challenged hotly. "You'll kill me too?"

"If you get in my way."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm in your way right now, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged negligently. "Your choice."

_"Take care of her, Draco."_

The words cut through the haze of hatred that had swept Draco's reason away, halting him in the middle of shaking off Hermione's hands. In its wake, it left behind an odd sensation of expectance and the vague impression of a vision, only partially glimpsed, of a spark lying dormant and forgotten beneath the ash, waiting for the wind to ignite it into a blaze. _What was…?_ Draco blinked, suddenly feeling adrift and confused.

He looked down at his hand, startled to see that his fingers were clenched so tightly around his wand that his nails were cutting into his flesh. _I…_ He raised his head, looking blankly into Hermione's puzzled eyes. _What am I…?_

"Draco?" Hermione asked hesitantly, her voice sounding as if it were coming to him from far away.

Shaking his head, Draco ignored her, shrugging out from underneath her hands and turning around. The bewilderment vanished abruptly, as his eyes were drawn to fingers that looked as if… As if they had just…

"Draco? What are-"

"Shh!" Draco snarled as he stepped forward, his eyes focused on those fingers, willing them to move, hardly daring to breathe. _Again… One more time… Show me that I'm not hallucinating… Prove to me that I haven't gone insane… Just one more time…_

The seconds ticked past with agonizing slowness. And then, just as he was about to curse himself for a fool, Draco saw them twitch. His breath left his lungs in a rush. Dropping down to his knees next to Severus, Draco twisted around to look up at Hermione.

"Help me!" he told her urgently. "He's alive, Hermione. _Severus is alive_."

By the end even Draco, with his mediocre healing ability, was exhausted. The whole endeavor had been touch and go. But Draco knew that if Hermione had not been there with her seemingly unending knowledge of spell craft, Severus would have died. As it was, between the both of them they had managed to repair not only the superficial wounds on the man's back but the internal damage as well.

Draco glanced over at Severus, who was now lying on his back and cleaned up to the best of their faltering magical abilities, but the man was showing no signs of regaining consciousness. "I don't suppose you've got enough energy left for an Enervate?" he asked, turning to look at Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, the combination of grief, exhaustion, and horror making her face look wan and haggard. "Did we do the right thing?"

"What?" Draco asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. "How can you-"

Hermione's eyes skittered briefly to the left before they returned to him. "Do you think we've done him any favors?" she interrupted his outraged tirade wearily. "If we hadn't… He would have never known about…" Hermione swallowed unsteadily, not yet ready to give words to reality.

Draco's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he groped for an answer. It had all been so clear a moment ago. But now…

Now he wasn't sure.

They had saved Severus. The man had been inches away from death. And they had repaired his injuries and had brought him back. Surely that was the right thing to do. Wasn't it? It was _right_ to save the life of a dying man. Because now he could… He could…

_Oh gods…_ Draco's eyes widened in dawning horror. _What have I done?_

In that timeless second, when he had seen the man's fingers twitch for the first time, Draco had felt a surge of hope, had _known_ that all they needed to do was heal Severus and then he would make it all better. Because once he was healed, he could...

_He could what?_ Draco demanded angrily of himself now. _He could what, you damned fool? He could see that his home was gone? He could look down and see that… My gods, you've taken the only peace he could have ever had away from him! You were fucking scared and you forced him to share your nightmare with you! How could you have done this to him?_

Draco stared down at his hands in horror. They were shaking. And they were stained with something darker than blood. Something worse. He had saved a body, and in doing so, had murdered a soul.

"Draco!"

He looked up, ignoring Hermione completely and focused instead on the body lying in front of him, on the thin chest that was steadily rising and falling. There was only one thing he could do, only one thing that would right what he had done. And it was the one thing he could not do.

There were many things that Draco Malfoy could say to Severus Snape. Many things that he had said, many things he would say, many things he only dreamed of saying to the man. But no matter what happened, the one thing Draco knew he could never say to the man was "_Avada Kedavra._"

"Oh gods, Severus…" Draco whispered, looking down at the closed eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry."

As if his words were an incantation to a spell, the eyes opened.

"Severus…" Before there had been anger and horror, shock and grief. Now there was only a raw, bitter ache. Looking into those dark eyes as the mind behind them struggled through a chaotic haze of confused recollection only made the ache worse.

Severus winced as if in pain, though the only movement he made was to blink a few times as he focused his eyes on Draco. "Draco?" he asked hoarsely, as if his throat had gone dry. "I thought that…" His gaze sharpened as he studied Draco's face. "It was not a dream."

Draco couldn't even pretend to misunderstand him. "No. It was not."

The dark eyes shut briefly. "It is over?" Severus asked, opening his eyes slowly.

Draco felt his own throat go dry. "The castle is gone."

"Severus?" Hermione asked timorously. The older man's eyes shifted to her. "How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"

Long moments passed. For just a second, Draco thought he saw something flicker deep within Severus' eyes. He felt his chest tighten.

"No," Severus answered finally. "I am merely very stiff. How long have I been lying here?"

Hermione glanced askance at Draco before looking back at him. "I'm not sure. It's been a while."

"How bad was it?"

There was a surreal quality about all of this that made Draco's skin prickle uneasily. They were sitting in the middle of a battlefield. The dead lay all around them. Next to them… Next to them was… And their voices: they were all being so damned detached. As if nothing had happened. As if…

_He knows_, Draco realized suddenly, watching Severus' face as Hermione told him about his injuries and what they had done to repair them. _He knows. Oh gods, he knows. _

"Severus?" Hermione's voice cracked as she looked helplessly between him and Draco. "Severus, I-"

"I remember," Severus replied, his voice cool and controlled. Too controlled. "And your eyes speak the words that your voice cannot."

Draco flinched and looked away, unable to meet the man's gaze.

"I have laid here long enough."

Severus did not protest as Hermione and Draco helped him into a sitting position. He reached up and rubbed at his forehead, as if trying to wipe away dizziness. As he sat there, collecting himself, Draco noticed that Severus' eyes, when they were open, were always focused on Hermione or himself. Since he had regained consciousness, Severus never once looked anywhere else.

"There is no help for it," Severus murmured, lowering his hand, his eyes straight ahead. If he saw the carnage, Severus gave no indication. As he watched the man's face, Draco saw a muscle twitch along Severus' jaw, saw his lips thin. And he knew, without asking, that Severus was preparing himself. Severus turned his head, and the dark eyes were looking deep into Draco's own.

His chest constricted. The air in his lungs turned to ice. _I'm sorry_, Draco thought futilely, guilt and sorrow flooding his mind as he held Severus' eyes. _I'm so sorry._ He wanted to say the words, but he could not speak past the lump in his throat.

There was no emotion in Severus' eyes. They were hard and cold, twin black mirrors that reflected everything they saw and gave nothing back. His face was impassive. And yet it seemed to Draco as if he saw a question in those eyes: _Where?_

Wishing that there was something, _anything_, he could do to prevent Severus from seeing what he himself had seen, Draco felt his eyes move of their own accord, glancing off to the side for a fraction of a second. The dark eyes followed and Draco was released from Severus' stare.

It seemed to Draco then as if the dying of the world had shattered time itself, breaking it down into frozen fragments tenuously held together by a trickle, a shadow of the once great river the had had the power to batter down the defenses of ages. They entered into another motionless moment, as Severus looked down at the body of Harry Potter.

_"I don't want to be the Boy Who Lived! I want to be the Boy Who Died With Everyone Else!" _

The words ran circles through Draco's mind, a dark presage, taunting him with his own helplessness to forecast the future, to prevent the nightmare from occurring. _I should have done something. Anything. There must have been something that I could have done._

Draco looked at Severus, who was still looking down at Harry. _It should have been me. _I _should be the one lying there. He should be here. Not me. He should be here with you, Severus. If it were within my power to trade places with him, if I could give my life in exchange for his, I would. Without question. Without regret. You do not deserve this. He does not deserve this. What I would give, to go back in time and change all this._

Severus said nothing, as he stared down at Harry. He did not move. He barely seemed to breathe. And then, after many minutes had passed, he reached out a hand and touched his fingers to Harry's cheek. He sat like that for a long time, his fingers lightly caressing what Draco knew had to be cold, unyielding flesh.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ The words were a litany of pain that had no outlet.

The fingers stilled. Slowly, Severus turned to look at Draco.

Draco's breath caught in his throat.

It should not have been possible for him to feel any more horror, any more grief, than he already felt. But what Draco saw in Severus' eyes wrenched at his heart in a way he had never believed himself capable of feeling; tore to shreds the last bit of cool composure that he had kept locked away from the terror of the day's events. It was one thing to come upon the man's body and believe him to be dead, it was quite another to look into his eyes and watch as everything that made him Severus Snape withered and died.

For as long as Draco could remember, there had always been a spark of fire that burned in the depths of Severus' eyes. Even when he had been shackled to a chair, awaiting the Dementor's Kiss, Draco had seen the spark of defiance for all that life had done to him glittering malevolently in Severus' eyes. _You can beat me_, Severus' eyes had always snarled at the world. _You can even kill me_. _But you can never _break _me._

As he watched, the spark guttered, wavering in the roil of emotions that surged in his eyes, the only spot of life in an otherwise pale and blank face. And then, without so much as a flicker, it died, snuffed out by the pain that spread like a wave over the surface of his eyes. And such pain…

It was a haunted, broken pain that spoke more eloquently than words of the death of the man's soul. They were the eyes of the dead, forced to continue in a mockery of life. It was the most terrible thing that Draco had ever seen.

Another pair of eyes abruptly flashed into the vision of his mind's eye. Grave, helpless eyes. Eyes weighed down with a burden that was too heavy to bear, yet could not be laid down. Blue eyes.

_"I know what you saw in that corridor."_

_ "What was it?" _

_ "That I cannot tell you."_

_ "Headmaster…"_

_ "I am afraid that you will understand with time."_

Startled, Draco stood staring at Severus as the recollection washed over him. Dimly, he felt himself begin to shake. _He knew… Good gods, all this time, Dumbledore knew!_

"Oh gods… I don't believe it," Draco whispered, the words flowing out of his mouth unheeded. "All this time, he knew. He knew and he did nothing! All this time. I don't believe it. I can't… How could he do nothing?"

"Malfoy!" Hermione's voice, silent until now, cut through his nearly hysterical rambling. "What are you talking about?"

"Dumbledore knew!" Draco turned to her, his voice rising. "He knew this was going to happen! Goddamn him to the darkest level of hell, _he knew!_"

"What?" Her eyes were wide. "How do you-"

"I went to talk to him! Over a year ago! H-Potter-" he faltered over the name, his angry yell momentarily cutting off before he pulled himself together, "-and I, we saw Sever-…" Draco's mouth snapped shut.

_"Your eyes were dead. It was as if you had seen something so terrible, so painful, that you just gave up."_

Draco turned back to look at Severus. _Oh my gods…_The implications were terrifying. And yet… Draco's mind shied away from the tendril of hope that began to uncurl. _It isn't possible. It just isn't possible._

"Draco Malfoy!"

"It was you," Draco murmured, looking wide-eyed into Severus' dead, empty gaze, ignoring Hermione's impatient snarl. "All this time, it really _was_ you."

Severus stared blankly back at him.

"In the corridor that morning," Draco continued, searching the emptiness for something, _anything_, that told him that Severus was hearing him. "You said you hadn't been out of the dungeons. You said that it wasn't you. But it was, Severus. It wasn't you _then_. It was you _now._"

_Why? Why is it always me who is left behind? Why is it me, who must stand back and watch as everyone that I love leaves?_

Even now, after all this time, there was no answer to be found.

_I do not know how to do this anymore. I cannot do this anymore. I cannot keep going. I do not know how. I do not know how to keep breathing, when all that lies at the end is loss._

It should not have hurt so much. How could it hurt so much? How could he still be there, alive, breathing, when it hurt so terribly?

When Lucius had betrayed him, Severus thought that he would never again feel something as wrenching and terrible as that searing pain had been. He did not believe that anything worse was possible.

He was wrong.

_I just cannot do this any longer. _It was too empty, too cold.

"Severus!"

Draco was talking to him. Severus did not care.

"Damn it Severus, listen to me!"

Perhaps if he laid down and closed his eyes, he could sink down into the darkness. Perhaps he could get lost in the nothingness. _Let me close my eyes. Let the world stop. Let it disappear. Let me go._

"All this time, Severus, it was you! And Dumbledore _knew_!"

_I do not want this anymore. I just…_

Time.

Severus' thoughts came to a meandering halt.

Time.

Time…

_Time…_

The world blinked out. Severus found himself standing alone in darkness.

_"In time, Severus, you will find all of the answers that you seek."_

The words floated out of the darkness, riding on the voice of a ghost.

An image appeared before him, wavering out of the emptiness. An old man, sitting across from another man, a younger man rapidly approaching middle age. There was something familiar about them both.

_"__I do not understand." _The younger man spoke, sounding as if he were speaking from a great distance.

_"You will in time, Severus."_ That was the older man.

_"I recall you saying that before, Albus."_

_"You will remember it again."_ Albus and Severus. Ah, yes. Now he remembered. This had happened before H…before the end of the world. __

_"There is still time, Severus."_

No. That was not true. Time had run out. Time had gone. Gone and left him here, lost and alone in the emptiness.

_"In time, Severus."_

The world blinked in.

_What was…?_

Severus gave Draco a detached, dispassionate stare. The younger man looked as if he were on the verge of having a breakdown. "What?" It took a few seconds before Severus realized that the flat, empty voice belonged to him.

"Come back, Severus," Draco pleaded quietly. "Please, Severus. Please come back from wherever you are."

_I do not want to._

"Please. I don't know how to do this without you."

Something about the raw, painful request drew Severus away from the edge of grief's raving madness. Pain assailed him again, battering at the defenses he had thrown up in the face of Harry's blood-streaked face. Gritting his teeth against the searing, icy, hollow ache, Severus focused on Draco's eyes. "What were you saying?"

Draco looked searchingly into his eyes. "Do you remember when I came to you that morning, asking how you were because I had seen you in the hallway?"

_ "Are you all right? You know, mentally, physically, emotionally?"_

_ "Do you require a visit to Madame Pomfrey's, Mister Malfoy?" _

_ "Just answer the question."_

"Yes."

"It _was_ you. It was you now."

"I do not-"

_"__In time, Severus, you will find all of the answers that you seek."___

It was as if a door that Severus had never known existed had just opened in his mind.

_"The future is what we make it to be. Do not forget that, Severus."_

"I went back." It was not a question.

Severus looked over at Hermione, meet her widening eyes, then he looked back at Draco, who was nodding. Of their own volition, his eyes dropped to the ground, to the one person who he had hated, who had managed to get beyond all of his defenses, who he loved more than he had ever wanted to admit.

_"I do not understand."_

_ "You will in time, Severus."_

_In time._

Severus looked back up into Draco's grey eyes. "I went back."

"But how?" Draco asked, shaking his head. "How did you get back there? How did Dumbledore know?"

"A Time Turner."

As one, Severus and Draco turned to look at Hermione, who was looking more than a little terrified.

"You can go back in time with a Time Turner," she repeated.

"And where do you find those?" Draco demanded. "Surely you can't just go into a shop and ask for one."

"There's a room in the Ministry," Hermione said softly, her eyes faraway in memory. "We went there once, during our Fifth Year. There was a cabinet full of them that got broken, and it just kept repairing itself and falling apart."

Severus turned away from her and knelt down next to Harry, ignoring them both as he brushed a shaking hand across the dead man's cheek. _This should never have happened. And Albus… he was trying to tell me. I am going to go back, Harry. I am going to stop this. I will not let you die._

He reached down, fumbling with trembling fingers at the ring he had given Harry on a night that seemed to have happened ten thousand years ago. Slipping it from Harry's hand, Severus placed it on the tip of his finger, watched as the griffin altered its shape so that it slid down until it fit snuggly around the finger's base. _I promise, Harry._ _I will stop this. And I will tell you… I will tell you what I should have told you long ago._

Draco watched Severus, his thoughts in a whirl. _He went back in time. He went back in time. Dumbledore knew this was going to happen. And I bet he knew about Severus going back. Which means…_ He hardly dared to hope. But it was there nonetheless. _He can stop this from ever happening._

Severus stood up suddenly, his back to Draco and Hermione. Long moments passed as the older man stood there, staring out across the grounds. Finally, he turned back to them.

"I am going to change this." Severus' voice was flat and empty. His eyes were still as lifeless and dull as they had been since he had first looked up from Harry's body.

"I'm coming too," Draco replied immediately.

"You-"

"No!" Draco cut him off impatiently. "No, Severus. I'm going with you. If something can be done… I will not let it end like this, Severus. I can't."

"Wait a minute," Hermione interrupted anxiously. "Wait a minute and let's think about this."

Draco turned to her with disbelief. "What's there to think about?"

"You don't know what could happen!"

"You can't be serious. What in the nine hells could _possibly_ be worse than _this_?"

"I don't know, but there are rules!" Hermione explained, looking upset. "I know, I've used one before. In Third Year, Professor McGonagall gave me one to help with my studies. And she warned me. Messing with time is _very_ dangerous! We shouldn't just go off without thinking about this."

"What have we got to lose?" Draco demanded bitterly.

"I-"

"Stay here or come along as you see fit," Severus interrupted coldly. "I am going."

Draco felt it then, magic rolling off of Severus in great waves, spiraling out from him. He had never felt anything like it. Looking into Severus' empty eyes, he understood why. Never before had he seen the Death Eater that Severus had been, never before had he felt the power that the man was capable of summoning. But now the power was unchecked, as grief and determination obliterated everything else from Severus' mind.

Draco stepped up beside him, not about to be left behind. There was a rustle, and a crackle at the edge of his hearing, as Fawkes landed on his shoulder. Draco started in surprise, both because he had forgotten about the phoenix in the revelations of the afternoon and because Fawkes had deigned to perch on his shoulder.

"Wait! Don't leave without me," Hermione crossed over to them quickly.

"I thought altering time was dangerous," Draco snapped harshly.

"It is," Hermione replied coolly, leveling a stare at him. "But if you think I'm not going to try and bring Harry and Ron and everyone back-"

"What about your objections?"

"Just because I want to think before I do anything doesn't mean that I object to doing it in the first place," Hermione snapped.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Okay, whatever. Women."

Severus looked at them both, and then turned his attention back to the land in front of them. The magic swirled around them, stirring up the air. Draco's eyes focused on Harry. _It won't end like this. I promise you. No matter what, I will not let it end like this._

The magic wrapped around them.

Severus raised a hand.

A ring of fire flared up around them. It rose higher, and then flooded back away from them, flowing out over the ground, consuming everything it touched. For one last instant, Draco saw Harry, lying where he had fallen, and then the Gryffindor's body disappeared behind a curtain of flame. Deep down, in some hidden place inside himself, Draco felt an echoing flicker of heat, a brief resonance with the flames.

The magic tightened its hold.

Draco felt a jerk.

They vanished.


	2. Chapter 2: To Throw a Stone

Chapter 2: To Throw A Stone

The Atrium of the Ministry of Magic coalesced around them, gaining definition as the flames faded away. For one disjointed moment, Draco could only look around blankly, the combination of the day's events and the outpouring of magic radiating from Severus making him dizzy. An uncomfortable stinging sensation brought him out of his mental haze – Fawkes, tightening his hold on Draco's shoulders – the phoenix's talons digging into his flesh _not quite_ deep enough to puncture, but enough for them to make their presence known.

The Ministry itself seemed to be in a state of agitated disorder. People were hurrying in and out of side corridors, some were silent, others shouting. Draco could have counted the number of times that he had been in the Ministry on one hand, yet he still had a sinking suspicion that the level of activity and the sheer volume of people clogging the Atrium were not part of a typical day at work.

"Which way?" Severus asked Hermione, seemingly oblivious to the commotion around them.

Hermione looked around wildly. "I… I'm not sure."

Draco saw Severus' dead eyes narrow dangerously, watched as the older man took a step toward Hermione. Apparently Hermione saw it too.

"It was almost ten years ago!" she burst out in a rush. Draco had to give her credit; although she looked more than a little terrified by the cold promise of murder in Severus' face, Hermione refused to back away. "We were more worried about saving Sirius than we were about making a map!"

"Severus!" Draco hissed urgently, stepping in front of Hermione as Severus took another step forward. _Now what? What the hell do I do now? _He was no match for Severus. Of that, Draco had no doubt. One small, controlled burst of power and Severus could swat him aside as easily as a fly. _I won't fight you,_ Draco thought vehemently as he looked up into those awful eyes. _I don't know how to reach you, but I will not fight you._

In that heart-stopping moment Draco saw death in his former teacher's eyes. He braced himself, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it. And then the moment passed, the murderous edge dulling from Severus' gaze. "Draco…"

Draco nodded slowly, careful not to break eye contact.

It was a fine line that Severus was walking, a knife's edge between madness and death. Every step he took was one of pain, just another laceration on his shattered soul. But it was life. Each wrenching step, each stab of pain, was a sign that he remained walking the edge, had not yet succumbed to death or to madness. Because once he stopped hurting, once he stopped feeling, Draco knew that Severus would be lost. The Death Eater alone would remain.

"Our path is the same, Severus," Draco said quietly, choosing his words with care. "Let me walk beside you."

There was a glimmer then; the shadow of a ghost passed swiftly through the wasteland of Severus' eyes.

"Hermione," Draco said over his shoulder, not looking away from Severus. "How much do you remember?"

"It was in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione answered from behind him. "I don't remember where exactly, but-"

"I can find out," Severus interrupted shortly, turning and setting off across the entrance without another word.

Hermione watched him for a minute, then turned to look at Draco, her eyes questioning. "What just happened there?"

Draco shook his head. "Come on."

They hurried after Severus, who was cutting a swath through the crowd and heading straight for the door that led deeper into the Ministry. As they walked, snatches of conversation drifted past Draco's ears.

"…Hogwarts gone…"

"…attacked my home…"

"I came here as fast as I could…"

"There was a mob of Muggles…

_The war has begun in earnest_, Draco thought darkly. _I wonder how long it will last. _With Muggle technology and wizarding magic, he doubted it would last very long. _I wonder if anyone will survive…_

He could see them, in his mind's eye: the Weasleys leading a force of wizarding kind against the Muggle army of Britain. He could see it happening in countries across the world, other wizards driven to vengeance by the Muggles' fear. He could see the end, far more terrifying than the threat of Voldemort had ever been. At least with Voldemort there would have been a world once the war was over. There would have been people. There would have been a life, however subjugated. Now…

_Now there will only be silence, echoing across the face of a dead world._

"Stop right there!"

Draco stopped, blinking as the sharp command snapped him out of his thoughts.

The three of them had reached the far side of the Atrium. Before them stood the door that would lead them deeper into the Ministry, to the Time Turners hidden somewhere within its depths. Between them and the door… Had he been the sympathetic sort, Draco would have felt pity for the hapless Auror who had been assigned guard duty that day and was now all that stood between Severus and his destination.

"Move," Severus uttered, his voice cold and empty.

"Until further notice, the interior of the Ministry is closed to all non-Ministry officials," the Auror informed them, his eyes roving over them warily. "Please state your business here and wait in the Atrium until someone can assist you."

"We are going to the Department of Mysteries," Severus stated, as if he had not heard the Auror. Casting a quick glance at the older man's blank face, Draco felt that he probably hadn't.

The Auror's eyes narrowed. "No, you're not."

Severus stared at him in silence.

The burst of power took Draco by as much surprise as it did the Auror, who was slammed back against the wall and hung there, suspended in the air. A trickle of blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Severus!" Hermione shouted, taking a step forward.

Draco grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"Let go of me, Malfoy!" she snarled angrily, trying to twist her arm out of his grip.

"Be still!" Draco hissed in a whisper, his eyes focused on Severus, as the man stalked toward the motionless Auror.

It was incredible. The intensity of the power that was rolling in waves off Severus was like nothing Draco had ever felt before. It lapped against his mind, intoxicating in its potency, calling to him, wrapping around him, leaving him giddy and breathless. _My gods_, Draco thought in awe as he watched Severus reach out a hand toward the helpless Auror. _No wonder Voldemort wanted him so badly. _

"Where are the Time Turners?" Severus asked calmly, his fingers inches from the Auror's head. "Tell me."

"Go to hell!" the Auror spat, struggling futilely against the magic that held him.

_Wrong answer_, Draco thought. Dimly, he became aware of the silence in the Atrium, of the feeling of eyes watching them. Yet no one intervened. No one could, with Severus' power holding them motionless.

"I am already there," Severus told him quietly, touching his fingers to the man's forehead.

The Auror screamed.

"Severus!" Hermione shrieked, jerking her arm out of Draco's hand. "Stop it!" She took a step forward, and Draco lunged after her, determined to stop her before she reached Severus. He needn't have bothered.

There was a crackle, as if a large amount of energy had just been discharged, and Hermione was flung back with a shriek. Draco caught her, held her up when her knees threatened to buckle. Severus did not turn around, did not even appear to have noticed what had happened.

"Are you all right?" Draco risked taking his eyes off of Severus long enough to give Hermione's pale face a cursory glance.

"He's going to kill him!" Hermione murmured in horror, looking shaken but not injured.

Draco turned his attention back to Severus as he shrugged. "Probably."

Growing up under the tutelage of his father, Draco had been exposed to both Legilimency and Occulmency, had been trained in them until he was passably confident in his ability to cast the spells. _"There is no such thing as too much knowledge,"_ his father had told him. _"It is always best to be prepared."_ He had never liked the practice, had always hated the feeling of someone stronger than himself riffling through his thoughts like the pages of a book. Because he knew that it would take so very little effort to rip those thoughts apart, to tear through a mind's defenses and leave the psyche battered beyond repair.

Severus wasn't even trying to be gentle.

"We have to stop him!" Hermione was yelling.

"I dare say you've already tried."

She twisted around to face him. "Malfoy, we can't-"

This was getting tiresome. "He knows where the Time Turners are," Draco interrupted sharply.

"That doesn't justify-"

"It justifies everything," Draco snarled, glaring at her as he released his steadying hands on her arms. _There is precious little that I care about in this world, Hermione. And now there is even less._ Even knowing as he did what the Auror must be feeling, Draco couldn't find it within himself to care. "He had a chance to help us. He chose not to do so. That is all the justification I need."

The scream abruptly ended, silence rushing in to fill the void. Draco looked over in time to see Severus step away from the Auror, who slumped bonelessly to the floor. It was unclear to Draco whether or not the man still lived.

Severus turned his empty eyes on Draco. "It is this way," Severus told him dispassionately, already moving to the doorway before he had finished speaking.

Draco said nothing, merely followed after him without a backward glance at Hermione. If she chose to come with them, Draco could keep his promise. If she didn't, well, there was a higher promise to fulfill, one Draco had made to himself. _No matter what, I will not let it end like this. _That one took precedence over everything else.

A moment passed. He heard her footsteps following after him, felt her presence at his back. Inwardly Draco smiled; a feral, razor edged smile that held no humor whatsoever. Now he could fulfill them both.

Scene Shift

"This is it," Hermione said softly, as they entered the huge room, Fawkes flying past them to perch on a display cabinet.

Draco slowly scanned the room with wide, wondering eyes. He had never seen so many clocks in his life. Clocks of every conceivable shape and size, clocks that he only knew were instruments to measure time because they were in the room with the objects that he did recognize. They were displayed on shelves that reached the vaulted ceiling, they were scattered on tables and desks, hanging in bare places on the walls, inside cabinets, everywhere he looked. A steady ticking filled the room, each clock in sync, as time was cut into tiny, manageable increments.

Draco's gaze drifted back to Severus, who had walked into the middle of the room and was now standing there with his head tilted back, motionless, ignoring them completely. It was not long before Draco felt the tendrils of magic coiling through the room, brushing fleetingly at the edges of his mind. _What are you looking for_? Draco wondered curiously. _Aren't they all the same?_

Severus stood there for a moment more, then drifted over to one of the shelves and reached out toward one of the clocks. His hand hovered over it a moment, never quite touching, as the magic twisted and writhed in the room. Then he moved on to the clock beside it.

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered, her eyes following Severus as he moved slowly around the room.

"I think he's looking for something," Draco replied quietly, frowning slightly. "I don't know a great deal about Time Turners, maybe each one is different somehow."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "I mean, with him. He's not… I look into his eyes, and there's nothing looking back at me. It's like he's not even there. And what he did before… I just…" she trailed off helplessly, turning to look searchingly into Draco's eyes. "What's happening to him?"

Draco sighed, running his hand back through his hair. "He's losing the battle, Hermione. The Death Eater is overwhelming him."

"I don't understand."

Draco smiled bitterly. "What is a Death Eater, Hermione? A murderer? A monster? What makes a Death Eater? Insanity? Some sort of inherent evil?"

She paused, giving him a measuring look. "I'm sure there are many factors that combine to create a person like that: personality defects, mental instability, misanthropy, greed, a desire for-"

"Humanity," Draco interrupted her. "Humanity created Death Eaters. Long before Tom Riddle was born, Death Eaters walked the earth, and if we do not destroy ourselves in this war, they shall be here long after his name has been forgotten. Voldemort just gave them a name. It was humanity that gave them life."

Hermione stared at him, incomprehension scrawled across her face. "What are you _talking_ about?"

Draco turned to look at Severus, who had paused in front of the display Fawkes was perched upon and was studying it intently. "He's lost, Hermione," Draco murmured, so quietly he knew that she was straining to hear him. "He woke up to find that the nightmare had never ended. He got lost in the darkness and pain, and now he won't come back. What you're seeing now is the Death Eater; filling the void he left behind. And the longer he's gone, the stronger the Death Eater will become, until he disappears completely."

Hermione grabbed his arms, spun him around to face her. "You're not making any sense!" she hissed angrily, panic creeping into her eyes.

Draco held her gaze baldly, allowing her to retain her grip on his arms. "You hit me once, in our Third Year. Why?"

"_What?_" Hermione's jaw dropped. "This isn't the right time to – What kind of question is _that_?"

"One that you need to answer," Draco responded blithely. "Why did you hit me?"

She glared at him a moment longer before saying grudgingly, "Because I wanted to hit you."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?" she snapped, sounding as if she had lost her patience. "You were being a jerk and I was hurting-"

"So why hit me?" Draco interrupted, resisting the urge to smirk when she scowled at him. "Surely that was not the _only_ option you had at the time."

"No, it wasn't," Hermione muttered flatly. "But I wanted to make you hurt, as I was hurting, even if only for a moment."

Draco nodded. "Exactly so. Don't you understand? Or are your eyes so busy seeing the world in black and white that they can't comprehend the truth? There is no good and evil, Hermione, no simple little categories into which you can shunt away all of the undesirable aspects of human nature. Death Eaters are _people_, just like you and I."

When Hermione's mouth opened, Draco held up a hand to forestall her.

"We're more alike than you know, Hermione," he told her quietly. "My point here is that we've all been hurt during the course of our lives, and most of that hurt has originated with another person. And whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not, we've all longed for the opportunity to hurt those who have caused us pain. You should count yourself lucky, Hermione. Your life was such that you have never had to embrace the Death Eater inside of you. But for that reason, you cannot possibly understand what he's going through right now.

"There is so much pain in his past, so much sorrow and disappointment. He had the kind of life that would have driven a lesser man insane. But he held on, even when he had no reason to do so. Then without warning, he had a reason. Long after he had given up on life and hope, Harry waltzed in and turned the world upside down. Harry gave back to Severus everything Severus thought he had lost. And now he's gone, and Severus has been left behind alone. You can't know what he must be feeling, to have surrendered his control as he has done."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in consideration, and for a moment Draco had the impression that she was looking past the walls of ice he had so carefully sculpted to keep people away. "That's funny, Malfoy. It sounds as if _you_ do."

_Clever girl. _"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Draco asked with a crooked smile. "All of the knowledge in the world can't make you understand anything. You have to experience it, you have to live it, and then if you've learned the lessons – or perhaps more importantly, if you haven't – then, and only then, do you even _start_ to understand."  
"So you do-"

"He's found it," Draco cut her off shortly, turning away from her and focusing on Severus as the older Slytherin reached out and took an object from the display. _I understand a lot of things, Hermione. And many times, I wish so badly that I did not._

It was a large, rather simply designed hourglass. There were no ornate carvings on the base or on the columns of wood, no glittering colored sand sifting between the globes of glass. Yet, for all of its simplicity, there was an aura of power surrounding it, mingling with the magic that was still languidly unraveling from Severus.

Eyeing it warily, Draco drifted closer until he stood before Severus. "That's the one, eh?"

"Yes. We will go now."

There was still no sign of the man Draco had come to know in the cold, obsidian eyes. _What are you doing, Severus? Do you know? Are you even there anymore? _Draco doubted it. _Don't do this. Please, don't do this. Strike me down, for forcing this burden upon you. Hurt me, if it would heal you. Break me, if it will help you. But please, please don't lose yourself for my own selfish stupidity. _"Y-yeah," Draco agreed helplessly, hating the way his voice caught in his throat, hating himself for the part he played in Severus' pain.

He might as well have stayed silent, for all the acknowledgement that Severus paid him. _I wonder if you even know we're here. My gods, how did this happen to us? And how am I going to get you back?_ A tendril of unease coiled in his stomach, as Draco watched Severus begin to flip the Time Turner. Something felt… wrong, somehow. And Draco knew with a sick certainty that there was something very important he was overlooking, something he had forgotten, or dismissed as unimportant along the way. _What is…?_

Severus' hands stilled, then, as Hermione's angry voice exploded into the silence of the room. "What the _hell_ is the matter with the two of you?"

Scene Shift

Hermione watched as Malfoy stared at her in surprise and Severus slowly raised his head, looking as if he was noticing her presence for the first time. There was something dangerous in his eyes, in the way they focused on her and narrowed. _My god, I think he'd kill me without hesitation._ It was a terrifying thought, though the terror only served to fuel the anger coursing through her.

It had been a very long, very emotionally draining day. She had been forced to watch her home destroyed, had looked upon the bodies of colleagues and friends, had watched as flames engulfed her best friend. And after all of it, now she stood here, in the Ministry of Magic, helplessly watching a man she thought she knew kill an Auror, thrust into an uneasy alliance with another man she had never been able to trust. They spoke of changing the future, of bringing back all she had lost. Against her better judgment, they had given her hope. And now their blatant stupidity was about to tear it away.

"Why is it always up to me?" Hermione demanded angrily, glaring at them both, _daring_ Severus to raise a hand against her.

"What?" Malfoy asked her blankly.

"It's always me," she snarled. "Every time, no matter what's going on, everyone just runs off and leave me to sort through the mess that gets left behind. None of you ever bother to _think_."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Now, just calm down and take-"

"You're just going to go back now?" Hermione asked incredulously, looking back and forth between Malfoy and Severus. _I've _seen_ beneath the exterior, Malfoy. I _know_ you're not nearly as stupid as you pretend to be. So why do you do it? Why do you play this idiotic game?_

Malfoy shrugged, giving her a look that clearly expressed his doubt of her current grasp on sanity. Severus just stared at her coldly, as if she were a nuisance of which he had not yet been able to divest himself.

_Of all the stupid…_ "You've got to think first!"

"Look, Hermione," Malfoy began, sounding weary. "You-"

"You're really going back?" she repeated quietly. "You're really going to go back in time?"

"Obviously!" Malfoy said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "What do you think we're going to do?"

"You're going to fail!" Hermione yelled, losing her patience completely. _Why can't you see?_

Now Severus' eyes were narrowing, focusing on her as if the universe had suddenly contracted until she was all that was left. "What are you talking about?"

"We need to get out of here," Hermione returned, ignoring his question. "We need to find some place safe where we're not rushing around and we need to make a plan. I know how important it is to… Look, I lost Harry too! I lost Harry, and Ron, and everything that I've ever known! I want them back! I want it _all_ back! But I can't…"

Hermione could feel her eyes beginning to water, could feel her throat becoming uncomfortably tight. _Damn it, I am _not _going to start crying now._ Desperately, she looked at Malfoy, willing him to listen. "We're going to make it worse if we don't come up with a plan. I've done this before. I spent a whole year meddling with time. And I know the dangers. We _have_ to discuss this first. But we can't do it here. We've been here too long already."

Malfoy's silvery-grey eyes were thoughtful, as he looked back at her. After a moment, he turned to Severus. "She's got a point, Severus. So far, we've been lucky. But there's no telling how long it's going to be before they send some Aurors down here to stop us. And we can't just kill them all."

Hermione exhaled in relief. _Oh thank god. He's-_

"We haven't got the time," he continued seriously, cutting her thoughts off before they were finished forming.

_I should have known. You're such a bastard._

"Where?" The word emerged grudgingly from Severus' mouth.

"Hogwarts," Malfoy answered shortly.

"You want to go back there?" Hermione couldn't prevent herself from asking, the memory of the place making her stomach contract and her skin prickle. "But-"

"There's nothing there, Hermione," Malfoy ground out bitterly, the façade cracking. She could hear the anger in his voice, the helpless frustration. The pain. "It's all gone. There's nothing there anymore."

There was a moment of silence, during which time Hermione could _see_ the effort Malfoy was making to shore up his defenses, to repair the mask of ice. And then he continued, as if nothing had ever happened. "Besides, Hogwarts has something to do with all of this. I saw Severus there, as he is now. He was there. _We_ were there. It's as good a starting point as any."

_I don't want to go back there. I don't want to see that desolation ever again. I don't want to see what I've lost._ Hermione sighed. They were running out of options. "We can't stay here," she agreed heavily. "If we went back where we are now, we'd only emerge at some earlier point, and I don't know how we could explain our presence here like this. Let's go back to Hogwarts."

Malfoy nodded, turning back to Severus. "Will you take us to Hogwarts, Severus?"

Hermione thought the man was going to say no. His lips thinned, his eyes narrowed further. But then, against all expectations, he lowered the hand holding the Time Turner.

"Yes. We will go now."

"Hermione!" Malfoy gestured sharply at her to move closer.

As she hurried over, not wishing to dally and cause Severus to inexplicably change his mind, Fawkes fluttered down to land on Malfoy's shoulder. _That's odd,_ she thought, glancing at the phoenix. _I thought…_

The magic swirled around her.

The Ministry faded away.

Scene Shift

It shouldn't have been _more_ horrible, now that the bodies had been burned away. But somehow, as she looked out over the land that had once been home to Hogwarts, Hermione couldn't help but feel that the sight of the barren grounds was somehow even worse than the sight of the aftermath of the battle. _At least one would have known that we had been here. At least our presence, the very evidence of our existence, had been stamped upon the land. Now, it's as if Hogwarts never was. As if all those who lost their lives this day have never been. _

Hermione's eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the emptiness around her. _What is life, but the imprinting of memory on that which is left behind? If the land does not remember us, if those who knew us are gone, what proof is there that we existed? Where was the meaning behind the struggle and the sorrow, if there are none who remember, none to learn from what lessons we left behind? _

She looked at Draco Malfoy, the once proud scion of an ancient family. He looked bereft now, lost and alone; his pride and his confidence, the arrogance that she had always hated, were all gone. The once highly held shoulders were now slumped, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his back. _How heavy, our burdens of guilt_, Hermione thought, not without a tinge of sympathy, watching the emotions skitter across his face, evidence of the internal battle he was waging with himself.

Her gaze drifted to Severus Snape, the man an even greater enigma now than he was when she had first met him. The vibrancy of the man, the sheer presence that had always radiated from him, was gone now, as cold and dead as the man's eyes. She had often wondered, when she was younger, if the Slytherin had had any emotions, other than the cutting sarcasm and the venomous anger. Now, looking at what he had become, she realized just how much he must have felt, the intensity of the emotions that she had once questioned.

_Does the mantel of remembrance truly fall on us? Two shattered men and a heartbroken woman?_

"Hermione? Are you all right?"

Hermione blinked, brushing a hand across her eyes before looking back at Malfoy. "Yes, I was just… I was thinking," she replied, ignoring way he was looking at her. _As if it really matters to you, how I'm feeling. _"Anyway, we're here. We need to discuss what we're going to do."

He stared at her for a moment longer, looking unconvinced, but then he shrugged. "What do you know about all of this?"

"In our Third Year, I was given a Time Turner so that I could take extra classes," Hermione explained. "And then at the end of the year, Harry and I…" she paused to clear her throat. "We used to it to save Sirius and Buckbeak."

Malfoy's lips quirked. "So that's what happened to the damn thing."

Hermione felt herself frowning, forced herself to ignore his slight.

"You said that there were dangers involved," he continued. "What dangers? Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have given you something dangerous to do something as petty as attend extra classes."

_"Miss Granger, you know the law – you know what is at stake. You must not be seen."_ Hermione smiled a sad, bitter smile, the memory of Albus Dumbledore's urgent words rising in her mind. _Yes, Headmaster. I do._

"You cannot be seen," she told him then, glancing as she did so at Severus. "Above all else, you must not be seen."

"Why?" Malfoy nodded at Severus. "I saw Severus. The world didn't…" His eyes widened, horrified disbelief suffusing his face. "Impossible. That's…that's just not possible."

"The world _did_ end," Hermione replied sadly. "But it's not what you're thinking. _You_ didn't cause this. Seeing Severus like that didn't cause _this_," she gestured to the empty land. "But we are about to go back in time. We're going to follow the path Severus created, that day when you saw him."

Malfoy shook his head, looking between her and Severus. "I don't understand."

"I don't know if I can explain it properly," Hermione paused, trying to collect her thoughts into some semblance of coherence. "You can't _change_ time. That's not why the Time Turners were made. If it was that simple, someone could have gone back and stopped Tom Riddle from ever becoming Lord Voldemort."

"Then what are they for, if you can't use them to change the future?"

"Time Turners were created to remember the past."

"_What_?"

Hermione sighed, frustrated at the limitations of the language. "In our Third Year, we weren't really going back in time to save Buckbeak and Sirius. It seemed like that to us at the time, but that wasn't what we were really doing. We had _already_ saved them. Harry and I… we were just going back to repeat actions we'd already taken."

"I'm not sure what you're getting at," Malfoy admitted, glancing quizzically at Severus. But Severus was still staring vacantly at Hermione, causing her to wonder if the older Slytherin was even hearing what she was saying.

"Think of it like a…" Hermione cast around for an example. "A path through the forest. Imagine that on either side of the path are great tangles of brambles, completely impassable. So you can't leave the path. All you can do is follow it until you reach the end. There was a point at which we thought Buckbeak was being executed. We were too far away to see what the axe was striking, but we could see that it did indeed strike something. Later, when we went back in time, we managed to free Buckbeak, and when we were hiding, we saw the executioner strike a pumpkin. What we had seen – the execution that we thought we saw – was in reality the executioner taking out his frustration that the hippogriff had escaped. So we hadn't actually _changed_ anything."

Malfoy nodded slowly. "Okay, I see what you're saying there. But what does that do with being seen? I still don't understand the danger there."

"Harry saw himself. He thought it was his father, but in reality it was his future self. It's like… You saw Severus. So now at some point, Severus _will_ go back in time. And Draco Malfoy will come upon him in that corridor in a time when he shouldn't be there. You remember it. And now it will happen."

"Are you saying that if I hadn't seen him, none of this would have happened?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. It set a precedent. In order for your memory to be real, you will have to see him there that day," Hermione sighed. "Quantum mechanics really isn't my area of expertise here, Malfoy."

"It creates a sort of paradox, is that what you're trying to say? If you aren't seen, then there's a chance of things being different. But if you are seen, you'll have to go back because it's already happened?"

_Close enough._ "Something like that, yes."

"Well, we already blew that one, didn't we?" Malfoy rubbed at his forehead. "Are there any other dangers that we've already inadvertently triggered?"

"The only other danger is to yourself."

"You mean like accidentally killing your parents before you were born?"

Hermione shook her head. "No! That would be changing the past. Weren't you listening? You can't do that."

"But-"

"Think of time like a river," Hermione interrupted before he could finish. "What happens when you throw a stone into the river? Does it alter the river's course? Does the river flow around it? Or does the river just flow _over_ it?"

"Surely if you throw in enough stones…"

"You can't alter the course of a river with stones, Malfoy."

"People dam up rivers all the time," he argued.

"Yes but they're not changing the _direction_ of the river. And yes, before you point it out, I know you can alter a river's flow, but not by much. You can't completely alter an entire river's path. Maybe a portion of it, with a great deal of effort, but not the entire river."

Malfoy sighed. "You're killing our hope here, Hermione."

"Just because you hope for something, Malfoy, doesn't mean that it will be a reality," Hermione snapped, the comment striking a painful cord.

His eyes narrowed, something dark twisting his lips in a parody of a smile. "No, Hermione. Hope _doesn't _equate to reality."

Silence descended on them then.

_I don't know how you took that, Malfoy. But I know that I never intended it to be taken that way. _"Draco, I-"

"Are there any other dangers?" he asked, brusquely cutting her off.

"Like I said, only to yourself," she responded after a moment's pause.

"If you can't change anything, how can you put yourself in danger?"

"It's dangerous because you change yourself. Have you ever longed to go back in time, for one reason or another? To see someone you cannot see any longer? To do something you regret never doing? To _not_ do something that you wish you had never done? Have you ever wished for one moment, one second, to go back again?" Hermione looked intently into Malfoy's eyes, past the ice, into the soul within. "What happens if you get that chance? What if you go back, and suddenly find that there's nothing you can do? That you can't touch the world, you can't alter it from the course it's on? You can go mad that way, Draco, when you meddle with time. Because inevitably, you realize that you're not changing anything, you're simply walking in the footsteps that have already been laid out for you. Everything you do has already happened. The future is what it is, because you did what you did in the past. You realize that you're making the future you seek so desperately to change."

The blood was draining from his face, turning his already pale skin to ash.

"You saw Severus in that hallway, proof that we went back in time. And here we are, Draco," Hermione swallowed. It hurt to say this; it hurt to kill the fragile thread of hope that had wrapped around her heart. But she wouldn't lie. Not to them. Not to herself.

"Harry's dead, Hogwarts is gone, and we're about to go back and do what we've already tried to do. If we had succeeded, we wouldn't be here now. But we failed. Our very presence here and now proves that."

Over a decade ago, Hermione had finally had enough of the cruelty and had punched Draco Malfoy in the face, hoping to make him hurt enough to shut up. She hadn't hurt him then, although she had managed to get him to shut up for a time. Now, she watched as her words inflicted more damage than any amount of punching could have ever done.

She saw the ice crack, a moment before his eyes slid shut. She watched his head drop, noticed his hands clench at his side. As if it were a tangible thing, Hermione saw the hope, the strength that had kept him going, evaporate. And when he opened his eyes again, all she could see was broken glass. In that instant, Hermione was struck by how uncannily similar he and Severus really were.

Severus himself had not shown any visible reaction to her words. His face was still expressionless, his eyes still devoid of anything remotely resembling humanity and, as far as she could tell, he hadn't moved since they had Apparated back to the grounds.

"So what do we do?" Malfoy's voice was hollow and empty.

Hermione shrugged helplessly. "We go back."

"But-"

"We haven't really got a choice. It's already happened. Besides, what else is there left to do?"

There was a glint of anger in his eyes. "If you knew that, why did you tell us this? Why did you take away the only bit of hope we had?"

"Because you needed to know! You needed to know the dangers and the truth of what it is we're about to do. If there's any chance of…"

"Chance of what? You already said that there's no hope!"

"I know that!" Hermione returned. "But I can't just… Even if there's no hope, I can't just walk away. I can't let them die without trying!"

Malfoy just stared at her, before shaking his head hopelessly and looking at Severus. "Severus? Have you anything to add to this? Anything at all?"

Hermione wasn't expecting a response, and in all honesty didn't think Malfoy was either, but Severus surprised her.

"We will go back," Severus said firmly.

"Even though we can't change the future?" Malfoy pressed despondently.

There was a glimmer of lucidity in Severus' eyes, a hint that he had not completely withdrawn into himself. "At the end, Albus told me that the future is what we make it to be," he answered, speaking more words than he had spoken since seeing Harry's body. "We must try."

"Should we go now?" Hermione asked, looking around at them. "Are we ready?"

"I am ready," Severus replied, raising the Time Turner.

"No time like the present," Malfoy murmured, his tone too weary to be misconstrued as an attempt at humor.

Hermione could feel the magic then, like an electrical storm gathering all around her. It tangled around them, washed over them, wrapping around the hourglass in Severus' hands.

"We go," Severus said quietly, turning the hourglass over.

All around them, the world began to blur.

**Author's Note:** I just wanted to give everyone an early heads up, just in case I forget to do so later on. The next story in the _Embers and Ashes_ series – _What You Leave Behind_ – will be rated NC-17. This means that I will **not** be able to post it on fanfiction dot net. It will be posted on my website, my yahoo group in the files section, and possibly (although I'm still undecided about it at this point) on my livejournal. It will be quite a few chapters of _Written in the Sand_ yet, before we get to that point, but I just wanted to make everyone aware now.


	3. Chapter 3: A Promise Made

Chapter 3: A Promise Made

To an eleven year old who was born into one of the Wizarding world's richest families, the first sight of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was rather anti-climatic. To spoiled, childish eyes, it was nothing more than a great, drafty castle situated out in the middle of nowhere – a great, drafty castle that was to be something akin to a prison cell for the next seven years.

To a twenty-four year old who had discovered something indescribably precious only to lose it almost immediately afterward, the sight of Hogwarts as the blur of colors resolved into clarity was like a welcoming drink of water to a parched and withering throat. To haunted, desperate eyes, it was a beacon of light in a world of darkness.

_Why can we never appreciate anything until we've lost it? Why must value come only after we pay the price of pain?_

The sky was bright and cloudless, the air crisp and cool. The Forbidden Forest stretched out into the mountains; the sapphire lake glittered in the sun. But it was the sight of the castle that commanded Draco's attention, drove out the awareness of everything else around him, held his gaze in an unbreakable grip.

It had been less than two days since he had heard of the castle's impending destruction, but to Draco it had seemed like an eternity. And now there it was, as if it had never been destroyed, as if the last twenty-four hours had all been just a horrible nightmare from which he had been unable to escape. But the castle was there now, unbroken and strong. And somewhere, within those walls…

"Draco!" Hermione's urgent whisper, coupled with the hand that suddenly grasped his arm, jerked him out of his daze.

Blinking, Draco turned to face her. And as he did, he saw the reality that the sight of the castle had blinded him from seeing.

The landscape was dotted with the camouflaged bodies of Muggles, broken here and there by the presence of their vehicles and other instruments of warfare that Draco didn't recognize. _Oh gods… We only went back a few hours… _A small part of his mind that was not being overwhelmed with horror wondered about what had happened to all that equipment. When he and Hermione had searched the grounds shortly after the castle's destruction, there had been no trace of any of it.

"What are we doing here?" Draco whispered, turning to stare at Severus.

Severus glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. "I do not know…"

"How many times did you flip the Time Turner?" Hermione asked, looking back and forth between their surroundings and Severus.

"Look, we either need to go or we need to do something, because one of those Muggles is going to see us if we just stand around here talking," Draco interjected, reaching around his side for the opening to the knapsack that was still slung over his shoulder. _I don't care what Hermione says. If I can find him before those bastards kill him…_

"Put the cloak away, Draco."

"But Severus-"

"_We_ are there," Severus told him, pointing to a spot down near the lake's shore.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he studied the empty space. _Concealment spell… No matter, I only need to see the Muggles anyway._ Pulling the knapsack around so that he could remove the invisibility cloak, Draco started down the hill, his other hand reaching for his wand.

"No," Severus said quietly, jerking him to a halt, tightening his hand on Draco's wrist when he tried to wrench out of the older man's gasp. "You cannot do anything to-"

"Like hell I can't!" Draco snarled angrily. "Let go of me!"

"They might kill you too."

"Just let them try!"

Finally succeeding in breaking Severus' grip, Draco turned away and took a step forward. _I don't give a damn about what happens to me. _

The incandescent explosion of light halted him in mid-step.

"It is too late," came Severus' soft murmur.

Blinded by the flash, Draco froze, feeling his skin begin to prickle uneasily as a tide of raw, uncontrollable magic fountained out of the source of the light. He could feel it flowing out like a wave, sweeping across the land. A second of tingling anticipation, and then the wave hit him.

Draco screamed as the magic poured into him, searing his mind, scraping across suddenly raw nerves like tongues of flame. He barely felt the sharp bite of the rocks as he fell to his knees, his body no longer able to support itself under the onslaught of agony. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain disappeared. The scream died in his throat as the afterimages from the glare of light faded away.

The landscape was now altered into the scene of the horrific nightmare that had become Draco's reality. The Forbidden Forest was gone without a trace. The lake was now clogged with grime, its surface leaden and flat. And there was a scar in the sky now, a gaping wound where once the spires and turrets of Hogwarts had risen.

"Draco! What the hell's wrong with- Oh my god…"

Ignoring the pain in his knees, Draco turned his head, following Hermione's line of sight. _Oh gods, no…_

Like a flickering mirage, Severus and Harry slowly became visible in their position by the lakeshore. A group of Muggles was taking advantage of the disorientation brought on by the castle's explosion and was bearing down on them, surrounding them as they stood back to back, wands raised.

One night, in what must have been a fit of nostalgia, Harry had dug out album upon album of Muggle photographs and had forced Draco to sit through three grueling hours of story telling. It had been a dreadfully boring affair that could have been made only moderately less tedious had the pictures not been static and lifeless. _Only Muggles_, Draco had thought as he had struggled to remain awake in the face of another long story about some stupid Muggle he didn't know and didn't _care_ to know, _would have thought up something so incredibly dull and still take pleasure in reviewing them_.

The memory of that night resurfaced, as time seemed to fragment until it had become nothing more than a collection of disjointed images. Images that etched themselves in the deepest recesses of Draco's mind. Images that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

A Muggle raised its gun.

Harry's head rose.

Emerald eyes widened behind smooth glass lens.

The Muggle sighted along the barrel.

Harry remained frozen, staring up the hillside.

_He's looking right at us. Oh gods, he's looking at us. He doesn't see the Muggle that's about to shoot him because he's staring at us!_ _Turn around!_ Draco opened his mouth, Harry's name forming on his lips.

A sharp crack reverberated through the air.

A neat red dot appeared in the middle of Harry's forehead.

A spider web crack appeared in the corner of a glass lens.

And then the stuttering, jerky progression of time righted itself, one second flowing smoothly into the next.

Harry stumbled back into Severus, the blood gushing from the wound as his eyes slid closed. Then Severus was turning around, reaching out to catch him. Turned to Harry as he was, he never saw another Muggle level a gun and shoot him in the back. Then they both crumpled to the ground, Severus' hand rising for a moment before dropping limply to the ground between them. Just like that, it was over. As if they had not just plunged the world into darkness. Checking themselves over, the Muggles started to walk away.

The electric thrum of magic saturating the air diverted Draco's attention from the two bodies lying on the ground, made him twist around to look up at Severus. _Oh my gods…_

The blast that exploded from Severus descended on the retreating Muggles like a wildfire, breaking their bodies where they stood, flinging them aside like so much detritus as it spread out over the grounds. Though it was not visible, Draco could track the path of the magic by the rate at which the rest of the army of Muggles collapsed and their equipment exploded.

_So that's why there was nothing left but broken bodies… _He could see it then – the unchanging pathway of time – stretching out before him. He could almost see the impressions in the dirt, the footprints of where he trodden before, fading into the horizon. And try though he might to strain against it, Draco knew that wherever he placed his feet, they would always fit neatly into those already imprinted on the path. _There was no equipment, because it had already been destroyed. The Muggle army was decimated, because Severus had already slaughtered them._ _And Harry… Oh gods…It was our fault._

Tearing his eyes away from the sight of the dying Muggles, Draco glanced at his companions. Hermione's face was white, her eyes wide and staring at the carnage below. And Severus… So contorted with fury and pain was his face that Draco could barely recognize the man he knew in the silent snarl, the bared teeth, and the hard, flaring eyes.

The magic was sheeting off Severus now, lashing out and whipping around them like a gale. _He's lost control. My gods, he's completely lost control…_

A flash of light caught Draco's eyes, drew his gaze away from the man to the hourglass held in his hand. Something was happening to the sand inside, the grains of sand beginning to spark as the inherent magic of the device reacted to the wild strength of Severus' power. The hair on the back of Draco's neck rose as a tendril of alarm shot down his spine. Looking up at Severus, Draco saw the madness in his eyes.

_No…_ The denial of what was happening in front of him shot through Draco's mind. _No… This isn't happening. This can't be happening! I won't lose you too!_ Hermione was yelling something, fighting against the flailing magic to reach Severus, to reach the Time Turner in his hand.

With speed born of desperation, Draco lunged to his feet and flung himself at Severus just as Hermione reached his side. The collision caused Severus to stumble, shattering his concentration and jarring the hourglass from his grip. Gritting his teeth and ignoring the backlash of power as it slammed into him, Draco ducked under Severus' arm and reached out for the Time Turner. Dimly, he heard Hermione shout something unintelligible before the roaring in his ears, the rush of the wind, and the sudden piercing scream of Fawkes drowned out her voice.

Then his fingertips touched glass, scrabbled for purchase on the smooth, strangely cold surface, and finally hooked around one of the wooden spindles. _Gods damn this to the darkest reaches of hell; I will_ not _let this happen!_

Draco pulled the hourglass to his chest, curling protectively around it lest it shatter when he hit the ground. As it was, the impact drove the air from his lungs and left him lying wide-eyed on the ground as the world dissolved into light.

Scene Shift

The rise up from the murky, disorganized depths of unconsciousness was not one that Draco made with alacrity. For one brief, magnificent instant, the only knowledge Draco possessed was the certainty of his own awareness. There was nothing else, just the sense of a self that could, in theory, experience something of life. But the moment passed before he could truly savor it, the cool detachment dissolving under the deluge of returning memories.

Of all the many lessons that his father had imparted on him throughout the course of his life, the only one that Draco had ever resisted was the trite 'ignorance is bliss.' For someone like his father to go around spouting such overused drivel, Draco had always assumed that he was meant to take away some hidden bit of wisdom, some secret truth buried inside the cliché that all of the idiots before him had overlooked.

Now, as his fragmented recollection of reality started piecing itself back together, Draco relieved that his father was not, in fact, trying to impart some secret knowledge. No, he was trying to impress upon his son something that Draco, in his intellectual arrogance, had always scoffed at: some knowledge came with a price that was just too high. Better to be without it, than to pay its price in the blood of the soul and the broken shards of dreams.

A collection of aches and pains soon made their presence known, causing Draco to attempt to sink back into the darkness. _Go away. Go away and let me sleep. Don't make me deal with this any longer. I can't do it. I just can't deal with it any longer. _Everything just kept getting worse. Against all logical expectation, Draco was now coming to realize that rock bottom was just a platitude, a flimsy cover thrown over the abyss that lay in wait for anyone unwary enough to attempt to discover just how far down one could fall.

It was enough that Harry had been gunned down before his eyes, enough that he had been helpless to prevent it, enough that he now knew his presence was part of the reason it had happened in the first place. But to have to see the madness in Severus' eyes, to see the vacant, mindless rage where once only sharp intelligence lay, it was more than Draco could bear.

"Malfoy!"

_No. Go away, Hermione. Please, please go away._

"Malfoy!" she hissed again, this time accompanying the urgent whisper with a hand on his shoulder that quickly became a shake. "Come on, Draco, wake up!"

_I won't._

"Something must be wrong with him," Hermione was saying, though the only other person she could be talking to was Severus.

_Keep talking, Hermione. He won't hear you. He's not there anymore._

"When the castle was destroyed, the discharge of magic must have affected him somehow," Hermione continued. "When it passed over us, it felt like a prickling of the skin. But the way he started screaming, it was like it was hurting him."

_What are you talking about? Prickling of the skin? It was like fire, burning my mind, searing my skin. Of course it hurt!_ The disparity in the manner in which the magic had affected them was _almost_ enough for Draco to consider completing the emergence into consciousness. Almost, but not quite. Some mysteries weren't worth solving, if the price he had to pay to solve them lay in looking into Severus' empty eyes.

"Can you wake him?"

_Severus?_ Draco's eyes opened before Severus had finished speaking. His vision swam, his body protested loudly against the movement, but Draco ignored it all and struggled into a sitting position. He felt grass beneath his fingers, as he propped himself up with steadying hands. It was dark, the only light coming from the stars in the sky above, causing Hermione and Severus to be nothing more than indistinct, dark shapes in the darker gloom.

"No, but I think you can," Hermione whispered, more to herself than to Severus, who moved forward and crouched down in front of Draco.

"Are you all right?"

_Me? Are _you_ all right?_ But though the thoughts battered around inside Draco's aching head, he refused to voice them for the irrational fear that by acknowledging its lack, the madness would return. Instead, Draco contented himself with searching Severus' face.

"Draco?" Severus asked again, lucidity still evident in his voice.

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

What else could he say? "Yeah."

"You are certain?"

_I'm as all right as anyone can be in this nightmare_, Draco wanted to snap impatiently. But he couldn't bring himself to say that to the man in front of him. Could not bear to remind him of something he could not possibly hope to forget. "Where are we?" he asked instead.

"Hogwarts," Severus replied shortly. "The castle stands."

Draco glanced in the direction Severus gestured toward, seeing the scattered pinpricks of light shining through the windows. And then, as the disorientation faded further, Draco became aware of the warmth of the air. It had been bitterly cold when the castle had been destroyed, but now it was fairly warm, the cold just a faint hint edging the slight breeze.

"_When_ are we?"

"We do not yet know."

"If I were to hazard a guess," Hermione offered, "I'd say that we've gone back to autumn. The air's too warm and the constellations aren't in the right place for winter."

"How did we get here? I don't remember…"

He saw Hermione look at Severus, though it was too dark for him to see her expression. "Ah, we're not exactly sure," she answered, turning back to him after a moment's silence. "Our current theory is that the Time Turner reacted to the amount of magic Severus was channeling, and that it was activated when you fell."

_Our theory?_ Draco looked at Severus, who had volunteered nothing to the explanation. _You're still not really here, are you Severus? You're not lost, but you're not willing to stay either._

"So now what are we going to do?"

"Go find out when we are," Hermione answered, the darkness rippling in what must have been a shrug. "Then we can come up with a plan."

_A plan for what? We can't _do _anything! _The footsteps stretched out before him, each step taking him that much closer to the world he had tried to leave behind. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He knew that if he did either he might be unable to stop. _We've killed you. We've killed you and it's all been for nothing. We can't save you, but by all the gods, I will avenge you. Forgive me, but that's all I can do._

"I'm conscious," Draco replied harshly, the pain he couldn't express sharpening his voice to a razor's edge. A rush of vertigo assailed him as he climbed to his feet, but his frustrated, helpless rage allowed him to ignore both the dizziness and the protestation of his aching muscles. "Let's go."

_Why do you look to me?_ Draco thought angrily, as they set off toward the castle. _Why must the responsibility for our decisions lay with me? _The questions were unnecessary; Draco had only to glance to either side to find the answers. Hermione was too cautious to ever be a true leader; more often than not, everything was either gained or lost on those split second decisions to take a risk and Hermione tended to hesitate when she should be acting. And Severus was too unstable to consistently make reliable decisions.

_Is this how you always felt? When I was enviously watching from the shadows, surrounded by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle while you and your friends played the heroes time and time again, did you feel as I do now? Was it desperation, instead of confidence? Was it fear, instead of courage? _There was a prickling at the back of his neck, a twisting in his stomach. He didn't know what it was, but Draco knew that there was something he wasn't seeing, something vital he was missing. Unconsciously, he opened the knapsack and withdrew the invisibility cloak.

_"If you knew then what it is that you know now, what would you have done differently, Draco? If you had known, from the very beginning, what you would find at the end of your life, how would you have changed it? _Would _you have changed it? Throughout the years, I have asked myself the same questions and each time, the answers remained the same. There are some things in this life, Draco, that are worth the price. They are worth every moment of pain, every second of despair, every sacrifice you make. And long after you have lost the will to continue, when you feel as if you will break from the pain, that which you fight so desperately for will sustain you. If you find that you do not understand what I am speaking of, you need only know that the day will come when you do. For you are a Malfoy, Draco."_

Draco had stopped speaking to his father near the end of his Seventh Year, following Voldemort's defeat. The Heir to Slytherin had led his Death Eaters in what would come to be his final assault on Hogwarts, attempting to not only kill both Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, but to also destroy Hogwarts itself, for the castle had become the symbol of the resistance. Draco could still remember the fighting that had occurred, the way in which the castle itself had fought alongside its defenders to repel the invaders. And somewhere, though the details themselves were sketchy to seemingly everyone but Albus Dumbledore himself, Harry Potter and Severus Snape had stood against the Dark Lord for the last time. How Voldemort was defeated never became common knowledge, but everyone knew that Harry and Severus, although injured quite severely, had been successful.

Most of the Death Eaters were also killed in that battle, but a few managed to slip through the cracks and soon disappeared, gone to ground in an effort to evade the Aurors that the Ministry sent out to pursue them. Lucius Malfoy had been among those few. The night of Voldemort's death, Lucius vanished, never to return to Malfoy Manor. That he was alive went without saying – the wards he had placed around certain parts of the manor remained intact, testament to his continued existence. But neither Narcissa nor Draco ever heard from him. No letters mysteriously arrived, no trinkets, nothing to indicate that the man spared even one thought for the wife and child he had left behind.

Narcissa had taken her husband's disappearance with the same haughty aplomb she had taken his presence in her life prior. They had not married for love any more than they had remained married out of any genuine positive regard for one another. As for Draco, he was just glad to be rid of the man who had taken the esteem and dignity of the Malfoy name and buried it beneath the blood of Muggle and wizard-kind alike. Lucius had backed the loser, and Draco had never developed patience for idiots.

When confirmation of Lucius' demise reached Draco, by the dissolving of the wards and concealment charms scattered throughout the house, he discovered the thick, leather-bound book his father had hidden. Idle curiosity, and the perverse desire to know more about the untouchable enigma that had been his father, had caused Draco to open the cover, where he had found a letter penned in the elegant scrawl that only Lucius' hand would have been able to produce. A father's last words to his only son.

_What would you think of all of this?_ Draco inquired of the ghost of his father as he adjusted the invisibility cloak around his shoulders, ignoring the glance Hermione gave him. _What would you say, if you could see what has become of the world? What would you think, if you knew what had become of me?_ He smiled bitterly. _Would I do anything differently? Yes Father, I would. I would have done what you failed to do. I would have exterminated the Muggles before they had ever had the chance to betray us. Now I am left with no other recourse but vengeance. But unlike you, that isn't enough. It will never be enough._

Draco's dark musings came to an end as they approached the entrance to the castle. "Wait," he instructed quietly, pausing to take out the Marauder's Map. With a murmured phrase and a tap of his wand, the map came alive. Glancing over it quickly to ensure they weren't about to open the door and come face-to-face with one of the occupants, Draco nodded. "It's clear. Come on."

Getting inside was an easy task, and soon they were walking down a corridor, footfalls carefully muffled, Fawkes flying above them. Severus was silent, his eyes focused on some point invisible to the rest of them. Draco himself kept his eyes on the map, reigning in emotions that wanted to spiral out of control, resisting the desire to reach out and touch the walls, to cling to the stone and never let go, as if his grasp was strong enough to hold back the tide of time. When he looked away from the map long enough to avoid stumbling over a step, he noticed that Hermione was walking close to the wall, her fingers trailing along the stones. Shifting his eyes to catch a glimpse of her face, Draco saw no acknowledgement of her actions, no conscious awareness of what she was doing.

Draco ducked his head down again, resolutely keeping his eyes on the parchment. _Strange, what it takes for us to recognize ourselves in those we view as so dissimilar. Our pride demands that we are different, that we are special. But reality can strip through those differences so easily, and then all we're left with is the disturbing knowledge that we're not so special after all._

The minutes ticked by slowly. The uneasy paranoia that Draco felt upon entering the castle began to fade, as the map remained empty of anyone traversing the halls. After a while, Draco remembered that never once in all the time he had been at Hogwarts had anyone ever raised an alarm about stumbling over a group of people in the corridor that should not have been there. _We won't be seen, because we were _not _seen._ The logic sounded more than a little flawed to him, but the realization caused the unease to dissipate completely.

"All right, where the hell are we going?" Draco finally asked in irritation, looking up from the map to glare accusingly at Hermione. "We've passed that ugly tapestry now like five times."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It was three times, Malfoy, and I don't know. I think the castle's moving around on us, it's not like we're unfamiliar enough with the place to get lost. Besides, _you're_ the one with the map."

"I was following _you_," Draco protested immediately. "And why would the castle be screwing with us in the first place?"

"Why do you always assume that I know the answer to everything? I don't even know _when_ we are, much less what we should be doing now that we're here. I just want to find someplace safe where we won't be discovered."

"Look, you-" The words died in Draco's mouth as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. There was a faint crackle at the edge of his hearing, like a spark igniting old, dry parchment. His eyes slid down to the map, widened as he saw two names approaching from the opposite direction. _Oh gods…_

A flash of light drew his eyes to the space Fawkes had been occupying; now empty as the phoenix disappeared. Another look at the map confirmed that the names were still approaching, getting closer with every beat of his suddenly racing heart. Thrusting the map into his pocket, Draco lunged forward and grabbed Hermione, one hand covering her mouth as the other pressed her back against him and drew the cloak up around him.

Hermione's mouth was moving under his hand, he could feel the beginnings of her voice vibrating in her throat. "Be still," he hissed in her ear. "Just be still."

And then his own voice died in his throat, as he watched Severus continue forward, not knowing that they had stopped behind him, as he watched himself and Harry come around the corner and plough right into Severus. _You were right, Dumbledore. Now I know why. And I wish to the gods that I did not._ The words skittered through his mind as his eyes locked onto Harry's, watched as they widened in shock and confusion as the Gryffindor gazed up into Severus' face.

Briefly, unable to resist the impulse to do so, Draco looked over at his younger self. To his astonishment, Draco found that he could barely recognize himself._ My gods, was I ever that young? That naïve?_

He wanted to yell out a warning, scream at Harry to run, to get out of the castle and never come back. He wanted to throw off the cloak and tell them what had happened, to make himself turn around right _now_ and go kill the Muggles before they ever set foot on the grounds of Hogwarts. But he couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely even breathe, as Severus uttered Harry's name in a tone dripping with heartbroken pain and reached futilely out into the distance separating him from Harry.

Draco could only watch helplessly then, as Severus' back stiffened, as his hand dropped to his side and he whirled away, heading directly toward where Draco and Hermione were hiding beneath the cloak. Backing away quickly lest the man crash into them, Draco felt a doorknob dig into the small of his back, hurriedly turned, wrenched open the door, and shoved Hermione through before following quickly behind.

_That's odd. I don't remember there being a door here before_, a little voice in the back of Draco's mind mused, momentarily distracting him from the gravity of the situation. The distraction did not last for long.

Severus stormed into the room seconds later, turning to silently the door shut behind him. Yet instead of turning around, he placed the palms of his hands bracingly against the door and bowed his head, so low that his forehead was almost resting against the wood. And there he remained, unmoving.

Quietly, feeling as if to break the hush that had fallen over the room was tantamount to sacrilege, Draco disentangled himself from Hermione and the invisibility cloak, unable to tear his eyes away from the tableau before him. Since the discovery of the wizarding world, Draco had been in a position to see Severus display a broad array of emotions that prior to his graduation Draco had wondered if Severus was even capable of feeling. But now, in the span of a few short weeks, Draco had seen the unshakable Potions master worried and terrified, had watched the detachment and the icy calm be swallowed up by madness, and had witnessed the unbending, unbreakable man shatter like a pane of glass. But nothing, not even the awful vacancy in his eyes, was as horrifying to Draco as the hunched shoulders, the bowed head, and the unnatural stillness that was radiating from Severus now.

Even after he had come to Hogwarts to teach, Draco still thought of Severus as one of the most powerful people in the world. There was just something about him – his confidence, his bearing, the controlled manner in which he moved, the way in which he managed to talk down to everyone, as if it were the most difficult thing in the world, relating to people as colossally stupid as those around him. But those were just components, symptoms more than cause, because in the end, there was just some undeniable presence about the man, something that warned at the back of the mind that this was not one to be trifled with.

The aura of power and majesty was gone now. All that remained was a thin, fragile, _powerless_ man who had endured more than anyone should have ever had to endure. Standing there, Draco saw that life had prevailed where Voldemort and his father had failed: Severus Snape had finally been defeated. The irony of the weapon that had defeated him was not lost on Draco. _It has defeated me, as well._

It was a stupid thing to do. He knew that, even as the thought crossed his mind. But there was something inside of him – some kind of intuition – that urged him forward when he would have hesitated. It carried him to Severus' side, caused him to breach the sanctity of the man's personal space, and place an unwelcome hand on his shoulder.

The blast of magic hit without warning, striking Draco squarely in the chest and flinging him back so far that he hit the opposite wall. The air left his lungs and his vision turned grey at the edges, as the back of his skull impacted with the stone. He could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had pierced flesh, could feel something thick oozing down the back of his neck. Dazed, Draco didn't even try to catch himself as he slid down the wall, just crumpled to the floor as his knees buckled under a weight they refused to support.

As he fought to catch his breath, Draco raised his head, fighting down the nausea that the movement caused, and tried to focus his blurry vision. Ever so slowly, Severus' face came into focus. _And now I've lost you, too._

The Death Eater stared back at him impassively, one hand withdrawing his wand from the recesses of his robes.

_So it's come to this. _Draco pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his right knee buckled again. _Damn it, I don't need this on top of everything else. _Ignoring the pain in his wrenched knee, Draco hobbled a step forward. The Death Eater's eyes narrowed and bolt of magic slammed him into the wall again.

"Draco!"

"Stay there!" Draco shouted harshly, stopping Hermione as she made to move over to his side. A burst of light behind her heralded the return of the phoenix from wherever Fawkes had gone. "Fawkes! Keep her there!" He didn't know why he assumed that it was possible for Fawkes to do so, or that the phoenix would heed him even if it were possible, but he said it anyway. And then he stopped thinking about everything else but the Death Eater in front of him.

_You're playing with me. I've seen my father in action; I know how this works_. Draco pulled himself to his feet again, gritting his teeth at the pain and forcing his eyes to focus. _Go ahead. Break me. Make me bleed. I won't fight you. _It didn't matter that Severus had given up and left his body in control of the Death Eater. Even if he would never return, Severus was still in there somewhere, and Draco would not harm him.

"You want to kill me, Severus? Is that what this is about?" Draco barred his teeth in a feral smile. "Go ahead. I won't stop you." Taking out his wand, Draco hurled the thing from him and flung out his arms.

"What are you _doing_?" Hermione demanded in horror.

The Death Eater's head turned to regard her, as if he hadn't known she was there.

_No, I won't let you hurt her!_

It was an instinctive spell, drilled into their minds since First Year. It was the first spell they had been taught, its use had been reiterated over and over throughout their schooling: if you can't defeat an opponent, at least try to disarm him.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

The wand flew out of the Death Eater's hand and his attention swung back around to Draco, just as the blond had intended. _This is really going to hurt_. The thought flashed through Draco's mind as the black eyes narrowed. Severus had never _needed_ a wand.

This time, Draco felt something break. Blood bubbled up from his throat and he spat it out before he began to choke on it. _He really is going to kill me. My gods. I wonder what my father would say about this._ He started to laugh, though the laughter quickly became a cough, which in turn became a wheeze as the pain made his lungs seize up and his vision fade out.

_Do it_, Draco thought, wrapping an arm around his chest as he used the other to brace himself against the wall. _Do it and be done with it. _He looked at Hermione, who was staring back and forth between them in terrified horror. Hermione, who would be left alone with the Death Eater when Draco was dead. Hermione, whom he had promised Harry that he would protect. _Gods damn it all_. _What the hell do you want me to do? What would _you_ do, if you were standing here instead of me? What kind of stupid thing would you do? _

And then suddenly he knew. The same thing Harry had _always _done, no matter what the situation, no matter what the risk. Had he not been afraid to aggravate his wounds further and do more damage himself, Draco would have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Then he saw the wand reappear in the Death Eater's hand, looked up into the man's eyes and saw them narrow. It was a hopeless thing to do, he did not possess the power necessary to repel the attack, but Draco flung out his hand anyway. _Damn it all to hell, not when I finally know how to reach you!_ He could feel the power rushing toward him, could almost feel the cold, bloodthirsty hunger of the Death Eater to watch his body break. All Draco could see was the emptiness in his eyes.

Flames roared up in front of him, licking at the ceiling, stretching out on either side of him to touch the walls. The magical blast slammed into the flames, caused the fire to flare with incandescent light, and then was absorbed. Draco stared with astonishment, first at the flames and then at his hand. _What the hell just happened? That wasn't… I didn't do that… Did I?_

The fire gave off no heat; Draco's hand was so close to the blaze that he should have felt something. But there was nothing, not even a hint of warmth. And it left no scorch marks, no traces of soot and ash, where it touched the walls and ceiling. _Magical fire_, Draco realized, though where it had come from, he did not know. _I didn't _do _anything._ Yet, when he lowered his hand, the flames dropped, disappeared back into the floor from whence they had sprung.

_What the bloody hell is going on here?_

It was all becoming too much for him. The destruction of the castle, the trip through time, watching Severus succumb to madness because of Harry's death, discovering that he was part of the _cause_ of Harry's death, the pain of his injuries, the confrontation with the Death Eater, bizarre magic: it was all just too much for him to handle. _This stops now. Right now._

Clenching his teeth against the pain that each little movement brought him, Draco pushed off from the wall and started the long, arduous trek across the room to the Death Eater, who watched him with some kind of morbid anticipation in his eyes, poised to unleash another spell. _I can't take much more of this, Severus. One more, maybe two, and this body is going to give up. _

"Is this what you wanted, Severus?" Draco demanded as he approached. "Does this ameliorate your pain? Will killing me ease the burden you're carrying? Will it be easier, Severus, to forget if you don't have my face before you, reminding you of what you've lost?"

The Death Eater watched him as if in a trance, the wand held loosely in his hand.

"So do it," Draco continued, coming ever closer, staring intently into the Death Eater's eyes. "Kill me, Severus. I can't stop you. I _won't_ stop you."

The wand came up then, pointed right at Draco's throat. But the Death Eater remained silent, watching, waiting. Draco smiled grimly and kept walking, stopping only when the tip of the wand was pressed against the flesh of his throat. He did not flinch, did not back away, even as he felt the magic gathering in the tip of the wand, felt it searing into his skin like cold fire.

With his remaining strength, Draco gathered his power, pulled it in from the furthest reaches of his mind, focused it with every ounce of pain, every moment of despair and hopeless impotence. Then he struck, punching through the shields Severus kept around his mind, delving as deeply as he dared into the man's mind.

"_Come back, Severus. If it will ease your pain, if it will bring you back, then kill me. I won't fight you_," Draco said, giving voice to the words he was speaking into Severus' mind. "_Just come back. Please, Severus. Kill me if you have to, just come back and save Harry._"

For one long, eternal moment Draco looked into the eyes of death. Then the hand holding the wand faltered, dragging the tip down across his throat in a line of fire, before it fell from nerveless fingers and clattered like broken bones onto the stone floor. The Death Eater vanished and Severus sagged forward lifelessly. Wincing against the agony in his chest, Draco reached out and caught him, held him as they both sank down to the ground.

It hurt. It hurt so badly that it was a fight to stay conscious, but it was a fight from which Draco refused to back down. So he knelt there on the floor, his wrenched knee shooting lancing pain up his leg, cradling Severus' body against his chest, finding it difficult to breathe through the agony choking his lungs, Severus' forehead pressing into his shoulder.

"Draco?"

Wearily, Draco looked up at her. He hurt too badly to even arch a brow in acknowledgement.

"Are you… Do you need help?"

_No, I'm not okay. And yes, I do need help._ "No, just…" Draco licked his dry, cracked lips, tasted blood. "Just give him time."

There was concern in her eyes. "What about your-"

"It can wait. I'll live."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but she nodded reluctantly. "If you'll be all right here, I'll take the cloak and go look around. See if I can find… Something, anything really, to help us."

_Thank you, Hermione, for knowing what to do._ "Good idea."

Picking up the cloak, Hermione cast one last worried look at Draco and Severus before wrapping herself up in it and disappearing. After a moment, the door opened and was gently closed.

Draco sat there for a minute more, staring blearily at the door, before sighing and leaning his cheek against Severus' hair. _Just stay. You can break every rib I have, every damn day, if that's what it takes. But please, please don't ever leave me like that again. I've already lost Harry. I can't keep losing you._

But the Death Eater was gone now. And when the man woke up, it would be Severus who stared out from the dark, depthless eyes. He would be wounded, he would be grieving, but he would _be_ there. _I won't let you leave again, Severus. If it kills me, I _will_ see Harry returned to life, Hermione and the footprints be damned. And _you_ will_ _be there to greet him. Not the Death Eater. I promise you that. _

With that last thought, Draco promptly passed out.


	4. Chapter 4: Against All Odds

Chapter 4: Against All Odds

The first thing Severus saw when he opened his eyes was cold, grey stone stretching out above him and disappearing beyond his field of vision. Yet, the chill he expected to feel seeping through his robes from the stone floor upon which he was laying was mysteriously absent. Twitching his fingers, Severus could feel some sort of woolen fabric covering the floor. The events of the last few hours were perfectly clear in his mind, however much he wished that they were not, and Severus was doubtful that he had had the auspicious fortune to collapse onto a rug. Turning his head, which he knew had not miraculously fallen right onto a robe balled up into a makeshift pillow, Severus saw Draco standing with his back to him, looking out of a window.

That Draco was clad only in his trousers and a thin black shirt confirmed Severus' suspicions of whose robe was currently doing double duty as a pillow. The shirt was torn in a few places, though the skin Severus could see through the rents in the fabric was smooth and unbroken. The normally sleek hair, having long ago escaped its binding, was now laying in a tangled mess across the back of Draco's shoulders.

_I almost killed you, and yet you have no mark to show for it?_ Somehow, Severus doubted it. Though the younger man's body appeared unmarred, Severus knew that the worst scars were those that could not be seen. _What have I done to you, Draco? _

As if he had heard the thought, or could feel the older man's eyes on him, Draco turned around, affording Severus with a very clear view of _exactly_ what he had done to the other Slytherin. _Oh my gods…_

With vivid clarity, Severus could recall what he had done to the Auror in the Ministry, could remember the feel of the man's mind breaking under his own, could still hear the screams ringing in his ears. He could still see the destruction he had brought down on Hogwarts' empty grounds, could still feel the fear emanating from the Muggles as they watched their comrades being cut down by some invisible enemy before being slaughtered themselves. He could remember abandoning Draco and Hermione to the Death Eater.

But he felt no remorse, when he thought back to that Auror who had tried to get in his way. If it would bring Harry back, Severus would bring the entire world to its knees without a second thought. Besides, if – against all odds – they succeeded, the Auror wouldn't really die anyway. And the only thing he felt upon remembering the deaths of the Muggles was regret that those deaths were as quick and painless as they had been. As for the Death Eater, Severus was what he was and sometimes what he was was still a Death Eater.

All of the shame that he could not feel, thinking back on his actions, flooded through him as he beheld Draco now. Of all the crimes that he had ever committed, and there had been so many, this one hurt the most. Hurt so badly that Severus could no longer look Draco in the eye and had to turn his head away, had to shut out the sight of the horrible, jagged scar that bisected the left side of Draco's neck and followed the line of his throat down to his collarbone.

He could so vividly recall the power that had been gathering in his mind, could remember the terrible focus with which he had centered it into the tip of his wand, could practically taste the bloodlust that had swept through him as he pressed the wand against the pale, once flawless flesh of Draco's throat.

"Severus?" There was naked concern in Draco's voice. "Are you all right?"

He could hear Draco's footsteps hurrying over, could feel his presence as he knelt down at Severus' side. "Severus?"

_What do you want me to say? What _can_ I say?_ Knowing that there was no help for it, Severus opened his eyes and found himself looking up into apprehensive grey eyes. "Are _you_ all right?"

Draco's lips quirked in a half-smile, though the humor didn't reach the guarded worry in his eyes. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Draco…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm _fine_, Severus. Fawkes…" A look of bafflement crossed his face. "Well, it's kind of weird, but when I woke up, Fawkes was crying on me and somehow that healed all of my injuries."

"Phoenix tears have healing properties," Severus explained quietly. Yet not even phoenix tears could completely erase a scar made by magical means. _Nothing_ could.

Draco made a face. "I guess I should have been paying attention in Care of Magical Creatures, instead of trying to get Hagrid fired."

There was something entirely too flippant about Draco's attitude. _I tried to _kill_ you. I _would_ have killed you. And yet you are looking at me as if you are afraid that _you_ have done me some kind of grievous harm, when it was _I_ who harmed _you Severus sat up and turned so that he was looking Draco in the eyes.

"Draco, I…" Severus paused, trying to find the words. That was the problem with apologies: he wasn't very good at them and there wasn't one great enough for what he had done.

The humor disappeared from Draco's eyes. "Are you really here?" he asked softly, searching Severus' eyes intently.

"Yes."

After a moment's silence, Draco nodded with a genuine smile this time. "That's all I need to know."

"What I did-"

"Doesn't matter," Draco cut him off, shaking his head vehemently. "You're here. That's all that matters to me."

Severus' eyes flickered briefly to the scar marring Draco's throat.

"You know, it's funny," Draco told him, lips twisting into a raw, bitter smile. "I used to be envious of that stupid scar on his forehead. He never _did_ anything, but yet that scar made him famous. He got away with everything, because of that damn thing." Draco looked away then and stared at the far wall as if it suddenly held all of the answers.

_"For seven years I was judged by the scar on my forehead! For seven years _I_ didn't matter, only my scar did!" _

Severus felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. _You mattered to me. My gods, how you mattered to me._

Standing up abruptly, Severus walked over to the window and leaned against the casing, folding his arms across his chest as if that would make the pressure lessen, as if that could make the lump in his throat go away. With sightless eyes he stared out into the sky, fighting what he knew to be a losing battle with himself.

_Ah gods, what am I going to do? I cannot do this, not without you. I used to know how to do this, but I have forgotten. You made me forget. And now you are gone and I am still here. _The words he had spoken to Harry that night resurfaced in his mind, mocking him with their prescience. _"There are many kinds of pain, Harry. And the pain of death is the least of all. It is fleeting, while the pain of those left behind endures long after the dead are gone. It is nothing, compared to the pain of loss, of those who must continue on after everything they know and love are gone."_

_How many times must I be left behind? How many times must I stand by and watch as those that matter most leave me here alone? Why can I not go too? _One by one, a procession of ghosts slowly marched through his mind. A set of silvery-blue eyes regarded him from a face that he had only to turn his head to behold again: the emotions too tangled for him to unravel. Then the image shifted, the eyes turning to a glittering sapphire blue that looked at him, not with accusation and disappointment, but with hope and faith. But Dumbledore faded away as quickly as Lucius had. And then there was only Harry, who smiled at him sadly before disappearing.

_"Whatever the paths you choose to walk, know that I will walk them with you,"_ Harry's words whispered to him out of a devastated world. _"In this life, or the next, you will never be alone." _

_But I am alone, Harry. The path has been plunged into darkness, and I must walk it alone._

A hand touched his arm.

Startled, Severus glanced over and saw Draco standing there beside him. The younger man said nothing, simply held his gaze for a moment before turning his head to look out the window. _"Our path is the same, Severus_," whispered the memory of his words._ "Let me walk beside you." _After a moment spent studying his profile, Severus too turned to gaze at the grounds spread out before them.

They stood like that for a long time, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sun rise up over the mountains. Neither spoke. The words were not necessary.

Scene Shift

"Hermione's coming back," the words left Draco's mouth before he was entirely conscious of the intention to speak them, the sound abrasive after the long time of silence.

Severus tilted his head to look at him, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "How do you know?"

Draco blinked, suddenly feeling dizzy. "I… don't know… That's odd. It was like a voice, whispering in my ear."

"And yet you insist in worrying over _my_ sanity."

"I didn't say that I _heard_ a voice! I said that it was _like_ a…" Draco gaped at him. "Are you making _jokes_?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I do possess a sense of humor, Mister Malfoy."

"Yeah, but-" Understanding finally struck, aided in part by the still haunted, pain-filled eyes. "Thank you, Severus." _Thank you for coming back. Thank you for choosing to stay._

Nodding in acceptance of the thanks, Severus gave Draco's hand a pat and then removed it from where it still rested on his arm.

A moment later the door opened, causing both of them to turn to face the empty doorway. A second after it had closed, Hermione's head, quickly followed by the rest of her, appeared as she took off the invisibility cloak. Draco watched her eyes widen in surprise when she caught sight of them standing by the window.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, approaching them warily, folding up the cloak as she walked.

There were, Draco suddenly realized, two things that he could live his entire life without ever wanting to hear again: 'I'm sorry' and 'Are you all right?' Apologies were said merely to acknowledge a thing that could never be rectified, they had no power to change anything, and the things that they acknowledged were typically those that could never be forgotten. As for that much-hated question, chances were that if it needed to be asked in the first place, than the answer was already apparent.

Draco shrugged, deciding to answer the question she was _trying_ to ask, as he took the cloak from her outstretched hand. "No one's trying to murder the other."

Her gaze flickered to Severus before returning to scrutinize him. "What happened to your injuries?"

"Fawkes-"

"Oh that's right!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head at herself. "I forgot about the phoenix tears."

"Okay, is that common knowledge or what?"

"To people who pay attention in class," Hermione replied haughtily.

Draco looked at Fawkes askance. "Better go into hiding, Fawkes, before the mediwizards get a hold of you and drain you dry." Fawkes ruffled his feathers, though whether it was in agreement or the phoenix equivalent of rolling the eyes, Draco didn't know.

When he turned back to her, Draco noticed Hermione's eyes on his throat. Tilting his head back, he pulled the collar of his shirt down and said wryly, "Yes indeed, Hermione, it's a scar. Get a good look now, before it disappears and you never see it again."

"Stop being a prat, Malfoy," Hermione responded automatically. "Maybe if we could make some kind of salve-"

"No," Draco snapped, dropping the joking veneer. "Leave it alone."

Her eyes widened. "But-"

"What did you find out?" Draco interrupted firmly, trying to convey, in no uncertain terms, that this was _not_ a conversation he was willing to have.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the almost imperceptible shake of Severus' head when Hermione looked as if she were about to protest further. After an awkward moment, she seemed to acquiesce to the unspoken command to drop it. "We've gone back about a year and a half before the destruction of the school."

Draco nodded. "I know. I remember what happened today, from before. Coming the other way through time," he added then, trying to make the illogical sentence make sense.

Hermione gave him a long, considering stare.

"What?" he finally asked, when it became obvious that she wasn't planning on saying anything.

"Something just isn't adding up," she answered vaguely, still staring at him.

"What do you mean?" Severus asked curiously.

"It's just something I heard," she shook her head, seeming to gather her thoughts. "Draco, how much do you remember of today?"

Draco's eyebrow rose. That was a tricky question. "Today now? Or today a year and a half ago?"

"Today a… year and a half ago," Hermione answered slowly, as if reluctant to say something so stupid.

"I remember a lot of things," Draco shrugged. "Be more specific."

"What were you and Harry doing so early in the morning?"

"It wasn't _that_ early! We were just on our way down to breakfast." He suddenly didn't like the way Hermione was looking at him, as if she were privy to some secret and was disappointed in his refusal to talk about it. _But that's stupid. The only other thing that happened was the whole Muggle escapade, and there's no _way _she could possibly know about that. They had already gone back to their hotel by the time we showed up here. _

"They had just gotten back from visiting Harry's Muggle friends," Severus offered easily, causing Draco to wonder just how much Harry had told Severus about the whole thing.

_You said that you told him, but _what_ did you tell him? I can't remember._ Too much time had passed, too much had happened for him to recall properly. And there was no way he _could_ ask without raising suspicions. _'By the way, Severus, did Harry ever tell you about that time we brought some Muggles to Hogwarts? No? Oh, my mistake. It must have been a dream.' Yeah, right, that'd go over well._

"_You_ went to visit Muggles?" Hermione was looking at him in shock.

"Yes," he scowled at her. "So?"

"Why?"

Draco shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Visiting _Muggles_ seemed like a good idea?"

"Pestering Harry and embarrassing him in front of his friends seemed like a good idea," Draco clarified with a smirk that was only partially false.

"You're such a jerk," Hermione muttered, then added, "But that still doesn't explain why you were only _just_ getting back from visiting them."

"We had a late night," Draco replied evasively. _Showing them around the castle, getting out the picture albums. Yes indeed, a _very_ late night._

"You stayed with them the entire night?"

"Is there some sort of problem here?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she smiled nastily at him. "I don't know, Draco. What do _you_ make of the conversation I overheard between the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick, when I was out looking around?"

"What conversation? I don't remember any noteworthy conversations between the Baron and Nick," Draco answered truthfully.

"No? That's odd, because they were talking about how interesting it was to see you and Harry getting along so well."

There was an insinuation there that Draco did _not_ appreciate. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the undercurrent of anger in his voice. "I think you misunderstand me."

"I'd clear that misunderstanding up in a hurry, if I were you."

"They were simply commenting on how you must have resolved whatever issues you had with each other. Either that or you must have been out fighting, to be sneaking around the corridors at such an early hour this morning."

_Oh shit._ The indignant, self-righteous anger drained away, along with what felt like most of the blood in his face.

"It's funny," Hermione continued after a moment of watching his face pale, "how you were with the Muggles all night, yet somehow you both managed to be here in the castle, as well."

_Yeah, ha ha._ _It's a veritable laugh riot, Hermione._

"Draco?"

He looked at Severus blankly. _I guess this answers my question of how much you told him. Damn it, Harry. Why are you always leaving someone else to clean up your mess?_

"What is going on?"

Draco found himself almost wishing that it really _was_ what Severus sounded like he was assuming it to be. At least then he'd understand. _So now I get to accept his disappointment in your place. Since when did I become the repository for all of your misdeeds, Harry? _It was a stupid question, he knew precisely when _that_ had happened. Draco sighed, unable to find a way out of his predicament. _My life is such a fucking joke._

"We brought Kevin and Ben here," Draco told Severus bluntly, looking unflinchingly into the man's eyes. "After he told them everything, we brought them here."

"What? You did _what_?" Hermione exclaimed, but Draco ignored her.

There was a flicker of something in Severus' eyes but it was gone before Draco could place it. "I knew that he had told them about the Wizarding world. I had been expecting that since the moment he regained his memories. However," Severus continued quietly, his tone still mild and expressionless, "he never mentioned that they had received a guided tour of the castle."

"No, that would be my job," Draco muttered under his breath.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

Running his hand back through his hair and scowling when his fingers got tangled in knots, Draco set about filling in the gaps that Harry had left in his story.

Scene Shift

_I do not know why I am even remotely surprised_, Severus thought as Draco wrapped up the tale of what had _truly_ happened when Harry's Muggle friends had come to England. _It sounds exactly like something you would have done._ And really, knowing Harry as he had come to over the years, Severus realized that he should have not only foreseen it, but taken it for a given as well.

Just as he really should not be surprised at the way Draco was looking at him now, bracingly yet oddly defiant, as if he knew Harry had done something stupid but was prepared to defend that stupidity even though he had been against it from the beginning. In other circumstances, Severus would have been hard-pressed to keep from smirking. Now, the stubborn loyalty just conspired to make the ache in his chest that much more difficult to bear.

"I still do not believe that Kevin and Ben are responsible for what happened," Severus told Draco sincerely. "Perhaps Harry's decision was not the wisest, but even I cannot find reason for them to betray the trust Harry placed in them." He could see the relief flash briefly across Draco's face, could detect the hint of gratitude in his eyes that Severus had not denounced Harry for his choice of action, or Draco for his participation in it.

_It is not your fault, Draco_, Severus thought, unable to give voice to the words. _Because you know that it is _your_ fault that Harry is dead,_ a voice responded darkly. _You cannot grant Draco the absolution he needs because you have none for yourself. Had you not lost control, perhaps you would not have made such a mistake with the Time Turner. And had you not appeared at that moment, perhaps Harry would still be alive. _

"But still," Hermione protested, "it was a terrible risk."

"Your parents are Muggles," Draco snapped back. "Isn't that a risk?"

She blinked. "No. They're a part of this world, even if only in the periphery."

"But they wouldn't be, if it weren't for you being a witch," Draco shook his head. "Why can't you see that the world isn't black and white? Good, trustworthy Muggles aren't granted wizarding children due to some cosmic plan to insure our world isn't betrayed. Look at Harry's relatives, if you need proof of that. You live the hand that you're dealt. Sometimes Muggle families are dealt a wizarding child, in the same way that wizarding families get dealt a Squib. Life doesn't bother to verify whether you're a right bastard or not first."

It never ceased to amaze him how different they had become in adulthood. During their adolescence, Severus had pegged Draco as the unbending, narrow-minded traditionalist who would never realize that there was no black or white, just a grey that changed shade to match the individual who looked upon it. And while Hermione was by no means narrow-minded or traditionalistic, Severus had a suspicion that too many fights against the Dark Lord had established a precedent in her mind for 'good' and 'evil' that tended to blind her from the fact that there truly were no such things.

"Everything is a risk, Hermione," Draco continued relentlessly. "You took a risk every time you aided Harry in his idiotic adventures. You took another when you agreed to be a part of this. Life is a risk, but you can't sit around waiting for everyone else to make your decisions for you."

They glared at each other in silence then, locked in a contest of will that Severus wondered if they even understood. _Fighting over the past on a battlefield of ghosts._ The years stretched out behind him, the four decades of his life weighing heavily on his mind as he remembered his own battles, fought with all the ferocity of a breaking heart.

"Who are you really, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked finally, breaking the silence as she studied him through narrowed eyes. "Beneath all of the bluster and bullshit?"

An ironic, bittersweet smile played across his lips. "I am exactly who I need to be, Hermione, to do what I must."

"Which is what?" she asked suspiciously.

"See the story through to its completion."

"What story? What are you talking about?"

Draco glanced at Severus for a fraction of a second before he looked back to Hermione with a shrug. "_The_ story, Hermione. There's only one."

_"What are we doing?"_

_ "Don't you know?"_

_ "Obviously not."_

_ "We're writing the story, Severus."_

_ "What story?"_

_ "The story of my life."_

_ "The world doesn't revolve around _you_, Lucius."_

_ "You're right, it doesn't."_

_ "Why do I bother?"_

_ "De te fabula."_

_ "The world doesn't revolve around me, either."_

_ "Mine does."_

There were times when the line between who Draco was and who Lucius could have been blurred so badly that Severus wondered who it was that he saw, whenever he looked into the wintry eyes. And it was during times like those when Severus found that the ghost that had haunted him for so long was not quite as insubstantial and intangible as he had once believed it to be. _The tragedies of our lives keep repeating. No matter what we do, they return and we are helpless to resist them. Time is not a river, Hermione. It is a whirlpool, unbroken and never-ending. _And yet…

There was something there, some glimmer of a thought that had passed too quickly through his mind for Severus to grasp. But he knew that for one infinitesimal instant he had understood, not just the nature of time, but its secrets as well. He had known, though that knowledge had disappeared as soon as it had manifested itself, how to _change_ it.

Hope, treacherous thing that it was, flared to life within him. If he had figured it out once, he could figure it out again. And then, he would _remember…_

Brought out of the mire of his desolate musings, Severus realized that the conversation between Draco and Hermione had denigrated into their usual bickering, although he was rather interested to note that ever so slowly, it was beginning to take on a tone of good-natured grumbling the more frequently it occurred.

Watching the two of them interact afforded Severus the opportunity to see just what a masterful manipulator Draco truly was. He had been a victim of it on more than one occasion, but he had never been in a position to watch it happen. There was an artlessness about the way Draco reacted to people, shifting the masks he wore based on the situation and the emotions of the person he was dealing with, that Lucius had never been able to achieve. Where the father had been motivated by his own self-interest, the son's intentions were far more nebulous.

Sometimes, it seemed as if Draco was just trying to get a rise out of people, which was something that Severus could understand. But more often than not, it seemed as if Draco was purposely manipulating people into what was, whether they knew it or not, exactly what they needed. There was an inherent selflessness in such an act that Severus could _not_ understand, especially considering that it was in a _Malfoy_ that such a trait was manifesting itself.

_This is what you have done to us,_ Severus reflected, looking back through his memories to a face that he knew would never fade, even if he spent the rest of his life seeking to restore it to life. _You found reason and validation where there had been nothing but jaded disappointment. You picked up the shattered pieces and, against all expectation, you figured out how to put them back together again. You gave back to us everything we thought that we had lost and in so doing, you bound us together in a way that I had never imagined possible. _

As if he knew that Severus was watching him – and Severus thought that he did – Draco cut off the fussing with Hermione and looked over at him. "What is it?"

"For a moment, I knew what it is that we have to do," Severus answered, feeling a flash of frustrated irritation with himself when he saw the hope spark to life in their eyes. "I lost the thread almost immediately after I had the epiphany, but now I know that there _is _a way to fix this. And in time, I will recall what it is."

"What were you thinking about when you had the insight?" Hermione asked.

"Time," Severus answered dryly.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Ah, right."

"I do have a question for you," Severus continued. "When you were out gathering information, did you perchance happen to find out where we are?"

Hermione actually smiled at the question. "Harry never told you?"

There appeared to be no end to the list of things that Harry had never told him. "Pretend for a moment that I did _not _attend the Harry Potter School of Stupidity, Miss Granger, and therefore do _not _in fact know all of the bizarre little hidey holes that the lot of you have unearthed these past years."

"It was during our Fifth Year and-"

"This is the room that you lot were hiding in!" Draco exclaimed in sudden recollection. "Although, you know, it's funny but before today, I don't think I've seen it since that night we ratted you out to Umbridge."

"You wouldn't have," Hermione replied. "Unless you were in need of it."

"More magical rooms," Severus muttered in disgust. "As if the students do not get into enough trouble on their own."

"Is that why no one heard us when Severus and I were fighting?" Draco asked. "It didn't cross my mind then, but now that I've had time to think about it, I have to say that I do wonder how it was that no one heard us, what with all the noise and discharging of magic."

_I would not call passively allowing me to kill you 'fighting', Draco, _Severus thought, suppressing the urge to sigh.

"Harry told me once that Albus told him about this place, that it was a room that appeared whenever you were most in need of it. I daresay that we were in need."

"Does it normally do magic on its own?"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Before," Draco clarified, waving a hand around vaguely. "That wall of fire. Did it know that I needed some help, too?"

"Um…" Hermione glanced at Severus as if for support.

_I am afraid that this is _your_ area of expertise, Mrs. Weasley. Not mine_, Severus thought idly, looking back at her impassively.

Looking more than a little flustered now, Hermione resorted to shaking her head at Draco. "We used this room to practice our Defense Against the Dark Arts spells back in Fifth Year and the room never volunteered to help us out."

"Did you _need_ help with them?" Draco shrugged. "Maybe it just knew that I damn well needed help."

"I really don't think that that's how it works, Draco," Hermione replied slowly.

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't me! That leaves you and Severus and somehow, I don't think either one of you threw up that shield," Draco finished, looking at them for confirmation.

The shaking of heads occurred in tandem.

"We're back to the room again," Draco said.

"While we're discussing concerns, there's something else that's been worrying me," Hermione spoke up.

Draco groaned. "Don't you ever have anything _good _to tell us?"

Hermione gave him a level stare. "If I come up with a way to save the world and get us safely back home without incident, you'll be the first person I tell."

"All right, you've made your point," Draco muttered before sighing heavily and loftily waving his hand at her. "Go ahead, oh Harbinger of Doom. Speak, that us mere mortals may cringe and cower in terror."

"For the sake of argument, let's say we _can_ affect the past and change the future," Hermione postulated, not deigning to comment on his theatrics.

"I fail to find the doom in this," Draco said dubiously, subsiding immediately when Severus looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Take what happened in the hallway," Hermione replied, seemingly oblivious to the silent exchange taking place. "Now Draco, you have memories of that incident because we were here for it to happen. If we manage to prevent the discovery of the wizarding world, the three of us will _not_ be coming back in time to stop it, because it won't have happened. Are you following me so far?"

"Yes."

"All right. So if it never happened, and we were never here, what becomes of the memory you possess of seeing Severus in the hallway?"

Clearly, Draco didn't understand what she was asking, yet something in him must have had an inkling that whatever she meant couldn't possibly be good, because he was now staring at her uneasily. "I want to say 'who cares,' but I get the feeling that you'd say that _I _should, before explaining it to the point where I _do_ care."

"Malfoy…"

Pushing himself up from his lounge against the wall, Draco started to pace. "Personally Hermione, I _don't_ care if I lose that memory." He glanced at Severus. "No offense, Severus, but I think I can live just fine for the rest of my life without ever having to see that look in your eyes."

Having not had the opportunity to look into a mirror since he had awoken to discover that Harry was dead, Severus had not seen first-hand what look it was to which Draco was referring. Although, if he even looked _half _as terrible as he felt, Severus knew he would be a horrible sight indeed. "None taken." _I could live without ever having seen that scar upon your throat._ And with that thought, Severus suddenly understood what it was that Hermione was trying to say.

"You're just reacting, Draco," Hermione pointed out. "You're not actually thinking through what you're saying."

"I'm not _just_ reacting, Hermione," Draco disagreed. "I mean it. I don't _want_ to see it to remember it. I'd rather _never_ see it. Especially if never seeing it means that none of this ever happened."

"But what else won't happen, if that never does?" she asked him quietly.

Draco stopped in mid-step. "What?"

"After you and Harry saw Severus, what happened?"

Draco's eyes lost focus as he searched his memories. "Harry got upset," he told Hermione a moment later, gaze sharpening back on the here-and-now. "Since they weren't talking at the time, Harry asked me to go talk to Severus in his place and make sure everything was all right."

"What became of that?"

Draco shrugged. "They started talking again. But surely that would have happened anyway. I mean, this _is_-" he paused, the mask he had put on for Hermione's benefit cracking for an instant. "…was… Harry. He wouldn't have gone forever without trying to speak to Severus again."

_How much more must we suffer before the end? _Severus thought morosely, knowing where the conversation was headed and unable to do anything to stop it. _Forgive me for what I must do, Draco. But there is no other way. _

"He didn't need to have gone forever," Hermione was saying softly. She turned her eyes to Severus. "How soon after you started speaking to him again, Severus, was it before Cornelius Fudge came to arrest you?"

"Not long." When had his voice become so worn and hollow? He looked helplessly at Draco. _I cannot protect you from this. _

Draco's eyes widened as he finally began to understand. "And Harry prevented the dementor from delivering the Kiss…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Oh shit…"

Hermione nodded. "Now do you understand? It's more than just the problem of trying to change the future. Even if we can, what _else_ would we end up changing?"

Draco was already shaking his head in denial before she had even finished asking the question. "Harry would _not_ have stood by and done nothing, Hermione. Even _if_ he still thought that Severus hated him, he would have done _something_."

Severus could see the understanding, and the sorrow that it caused, in Hermione's eyes as she looked from Draco to him. "After it was over, Ron told me all about what happened the day that Fudge came to arrest you. He said that you went without a fight. Even with Fudge deliberately baiting you. Why?"

"Because…"

_"Your faith will be rewarded." _

_ Because I had a reason not to fight._

"So what would have happened if you had fought them? What if you hadn't _made_ it to the trial? What if they had just killed you there, in self-defense? _What did that singular event set into motion_?" Hermione turned to Draco again."You and Harry saw Severus in the hallway, but that single event could have had a ripple effect that stretched _far_ beyond that day. We don't know what that set in motion. We don't know what else we would change. It could very well be that we'd create _more_ problems than we'd solve."

Draco was looking back and forth between Hermione and Severus with a bewildered, helplessly aghast expression on his face. Finally, he sagged back against the wall, face pale and wan. "This can't be happening. It just can't be happening. You're telling me that by saving Harry we'd be killing Severus?"

"I'm not saying that for a fact," Hermione corrected him. "I'm just saying that there's more to consider than simply figuring out how to change the future. We need to make sure that if we can, we don't end up changing the _wrong_ things."

"It does not matter."

Draco gaped at him. "What? No, it does. She's right, Severus. What if that moment saved you?"

"I'm not-" Hermione began.

"It is irrelevant," Severus cut her off. _Your priorities are skewed, Draco. _

"No, it's not!" Draco shot back vehemently. "You can't just-"

"I would rather that there be a world in which Harry lives, even if I do not, than a world in which he is gone and I am alive," Severus replied quietly. _This world needs you, Harry. It has never needed me. _

"You can't do that," Draco whispered in a voice shot through with horror. "You can't buy his life with your own!"

"Watch me."

Draco's eyes narrowed as his expression froze somewhere between rage and fear. "You'd leave him here alone?" he snarled in furious disbelief. "You'd consign him to a world like this, without you? You'd force him to live a life alone?"

Severus looked intently into the cold, angry eyes, looked beyond the raging emotions to the heart of the man beneath, before saying softly, "He would not be alone."

Draco froze, the blood drained from his face as if the words had been edged in steel and thrust deep within his chest. "What did you say?" he whispered harshly, the words emerging as if they had been torn from his throat, jagged and raw.

"Harry would not be alone."

Draco stared at him with stricken eyes for a moment longer before turning on his heel and walking away. Halfway to the door, Draco shook out the invisibility cloak and settled it on his shoulders. Then, without a word or backward glance, he opened the door, pulled the cloak over his head, and disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5: Necessary Sacrifices

Chapter 5: Necessary Sacrifice

Blind to his surroundings, Draco stalked through the corridors, haphazardly choosing the direction he was heading based on the desire to get as far away from that room as he could. _You bastard. You bloody bastard._ The words were a constant litany running through his mind that kept him moving when he might have stopped, taking him further and further away from Severus.

_How dare you! _Draco contented himself to screaming in his mind. _How dare you do this? _The violence he could not have summoned against the Death Eater rose within him now. _You would leave him to the same hell you're trapped in and you'd force me to pick up the pieces of what you broke. But I won't make it that easy for you, you selfish son of a bitch. I won't let you do this. Harry _will_ be saved, but by all the gods, I will _not_ let you sacrifice your life for his! _

It was unconscionable.

To return Harry to life, Draco had been prepared to do anything. No act, however terrible, was too atrocious to commit. No sacrifice was too great a price to pay. And yet, Severus was asking Draco to do the one thing he could not do.

_"Harry would not be alone."_

It made Draco ill.

_Do you really think that I could do it, Severus? Do you truly believe that I would be able to do this, knowing that it was you that I was sacrificing? _Draco felt his lips twist into a painful, bitter smile. _Ask something else of me, Severus. Ask anything of me but that. Because I won't sacrifice either one of you. _

The hallways were beginning to fill with students, making it more difficult for Draco to keep his presence undetected. Pulling himself out of the quagmire of his thoughts, Draco hastily ducked down a side corridor, trying to get out of the flow of traffic. When he spied a Third Year opening a door to one of the many courtyards, Draco hurried after her, slipping out behind her as the door closed. Once free of the confines of the castle, Draco resumed his aimless wanderings, the only destination in his mind an indistinct 'away.'

_"I would rather that there be a world in which Harry lives, even if I do not, than a world in which he is gone and I am alive."_

_And what about what _Harry_ would rather, you bastard? What about how he'd feel, waking up in a world where you're nothing more than a soulless husk? How do you think he would feel, knowing that he couldn't protect you? Gods damn you, Severus. How dare you do this to him? How dare you ask me to take your place?_

The sound of some kind of uproar penetrated Draco's angry thoughts. Blinking his vision back into focus, Draco saw that he had wandered close to the practice field. After a moment's more concentrated listening, he recognized the voices as belonging to Rolanda Hooch and Albus Dumbledore. Feeling curiosity seeping through the haze of helpless anger, Draco drifted nearer, pulling the invisibility cloak more tightly around himself lest an errant breeze ruffle the fabric and reveal him.

"-some kind of prank or what," Hooch was saying irately, "but _I_ for one don't find it very amusing."

"Nor I, Rolanda," Dumbledore replied soothingly. "But I cannot understand what anyone would seek to accomplish by hiding some of the school's broomsticks."

"Low level aggression on the part of the Slytherins for losing to Gryffindor again?" Hooch suggested with a shrug. "Or Peeves trying to irritate Argus?"

_Nothing ever happens around here that we don't get blamed for,_ Draco thought irritably, as he peered around the side of the broom shed, not totally convinced that Dumbledore couldn't see through the cloak's magic. The fact that it was an invisibility cloak, and therefore concealed from view that which it covered, might apply to everyone else, but chances were that it was simply a suggestion where Dumbledore was concerned. _Just once, I'd like to see someone suggest that a Gryffindor was to blame for whatever's going on._

Getting a look at the two professors standing there in conversation was like seeing them for the first time. _My gods, it's only been a little over a day since I've last seen them, and yet it feels as if it's been an eternity,_ Draco thought as he stared at them, acutely experiencing the disparity between the reality of how much time had passed and what it _felt_ like had passed. _I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this._ And he didn't want to either, if familiarity with it meant that they would never succeed.

Dumbledore appeared to be mulling over Hooch's accusations. "When did you first notice the disappearance of the broomsticks?" he asked finally.

"This morning," Hooch responded. "After class was over yesterday afternoon, I put them away myself. So I know that they were there for most of yesterday and that their disappearance isn't the result of students being too lazy to put things away properly."

"Well, I must say that if it was indeed a prank, it was a remarkably well-organized one," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "You are not the only one who has reported being unable to find items thought to have been put away."

"Other things have gone missing?" Hooch sounded surprised. "I'd wonder about the possibility of a theft, but I can't imagine why a thief would want a few second-hand broomsticks."

Dumbledore was nodding in agreement. "Much of what has disappeared is trifling in nature, while the more valuable items and artifacts have been left untouched. No, I do not believe this to be the work of a thief. Or if it is, not a very competent one."

"What should we do?"

"I will ask the house elves to search the castle for the missing items," Dumbledore replied. "If they meet with no success, I shall be sure to replace what has been lost."

_Things have gone missing?_ Draco frowned, as he sorted through his memories of this day. _I don't remember any of this._ He tried to recall any mention of missing items from faculty or students, but could find no memories of anything strange happening except for the run-in with what he now knew to be the Severus from the future. Upon further consideration, however, Draco realized that he probably shouldn't be surprised by his lack of recollection.

Throughout breakfast, he had been too exhausted for his mind to focus on anything save speculation about Severus' well-being. And then it had been impossible for him to focus on his class for any length of time: he recalled being fortunate that he had managed to speak in complete, coherent sentences about relevant subject matter. After that had been his conversation with Severus, followed immediately by his visit to Harry, which ended with him giving up the day for lost and going to sleep when Harry had finally left to go see his Muggle friends. _The rest of the faculty could have started shouting about it right in front of me and I doubt I would have noticed._

Dumbledore and Hooch were wrapping up their conversation, Dumbledore moving as if to go back inside the castle and Hooch drifting over to the broom shed to look once more for something she knew wasn't there. Watching her move towards him, Draco hurried around the other side of the shed, ending up behind Dumbledore, who was approaching the door. In a moment of split-second decision-making, Draco fell into step behind the headmaster and followed him inside, deciding to shadow his steps as Dumbledore set off down the hallway. If the old wizard knew that Draco was there, much less trailing along behind him, he gave no indication.

_You knew,_ Draco thought accusingly, looking at the back of Dumbledore's head as if by staring hard enough he would be able to uncover the truth of what was going on. _You _knew_ that the Muggles would find out about the wizarding world. _

_"I am afraid that you will understand with time,"_ the headmaster's voice spoke out of the depths of Draco's memory._ "If there was anything I could do that would prevent you from knowing what you saw that day, I assure you that I would do so. For that failure, I am deeply sorry, Draco."_

_But you _could_ have prevented it,_ Draco argued back to the memory. _You knew about it more than a year before it happened! Surely there was something that you could have done to stop it. And yet, you did nothing but wait. Why? Why did you let this happen? _

_"You will understand with time… with time… _time_…"_

_You knew that we'd go back in time. _Draco caught himself about to shake his head, afraid that the unnecessary movement would alert Dumbledore to his presence. _But that can't be the reason you let our world be destroyed. I refuse to believe that. Not even _you_ would sacrifice an entire way of life just to keep continuity from being disrupted. And for what? If we can't _do_ anything to affect history or the future, then there's no sense in our being back here in the first place! _There was just so much that he didn't know, so many little pieces of the puzzle that he just didn't have in his possession.

And there was something there, lurking at the back of his mind, not yet fully formed and already on the verge of being forgotten. Something vitally important that he was overlooking because he was staring it in the face and the proximity to it was making him blind. _You knew that the Muggles would discover our world. _Draco tried again, turning what little he knew over in his mind and lining it up for better consideration. _And you knew that they would destroy it. Just as you knew that we would go back in time._

It was there. He could feel it clamoring for attention, tugging on his mind and begging him to just turn around and _see_ it.

_Just as you knew that _we _would go back in time._

That was it.

_He knew that it would be exposed and that _we _would go back in time because of it. Us specifically. But if Hermione and I hadn't been sent away from the castle, we would have stayed and been killed along with everyone else. And Severus would have died from his wounds._

The realization brought Draco up short, nearly causing him to trip over the edge of the cloak. _Hermione wanted to leave, wanted to Apparate away the instant the wards went down. But I refused. I went back and she followed me. And we found Severus before he died. _

_"We have chosen Hermione Weasley and Draco Malfoy to lead the children during the evacuation."_

_ "Why? Why the two of us?"_

He could almost hear the click of a puzzle piece sliding into place. _You chose us on purpose_. Realizing that Dumbledore was rapidly drawing ahead of him, Draco started after him, moving silently as he spoke in his mind the words he wanted so much to shout at the wizard_. You sent us away from the castle so that we wouldn't die. _

_ "May your journey be swift. And know that with you goes the hope of us all." _

_You set this all up. You set it up so that the three of us specifically would come back here! But why? Why did you want us to come back? Damn it, Dumbledore, what the hell do you want us to do?_

"Albus."

Dumbledore paused, half-turning to look quizzically down one of the adjoining corridors. From where he stood, Draco could see the smile on Dumbledore's face. "Good morning, Minerva," he greeted the Head of Gryffindor House happily.

McGonagall stepped out of the corridor, glancing up and down the hallway before moving to Dumbledore's side. Though her eyes passed sightlessly over him, Draco could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up warily. Even now, an adult and her colleague, the deputy headmistress still had the power to make Draco uneasy.

_She saw me. I don't know how, but I know she did._ It was an irrational fear, completely illogical. But standing before him were the two people responsible for the power and strength behind Hogwarts. Logic and rationality could hardly be counted on to prevail against _them_.

"You have spoken with Rolanda?" It was a question, but Draco had the sneaking suspicion that McGonagall already knew the answer.

"Indeed I have. And it appears as if we are short some fundamental Quidditch supplies," Dumbledore responded, with a smile that seemed totally inappropriate for the subject at hand.

McGonagall nodded. "Argus came to see me after breakfast with his own list of missing items."

"Come, let us walk for a bit," Dumbledore gestured for her to walk with him. "It would not do for unsuspecting individuals to happen upon our conversation and I have found that the best place for any meetings of a _secretive_ nature is _my office_."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, obviously finding the emphasis as bizarre as Draco himself had found it.

Dumbledore nodded.

She turned her head, glancing back down the hallway, her gaze once more passing over Draco. It took everything he had not to shrink back away from her. Then she turned back to Dumbledore. "Of course."

_They know I'm here. _

Yet instead of acknowledging his presence, the two professors turned and continued down the hallway as if they didn't know that he was there. Not understanding the game, but recognizing the signs of one being played, Draco crept after them.

_ This is stupid. This is horrendously, monstrously, Harry Potterly stupid,_ he berated himself as he followed them. _They know you're here but they're still willing to ignore you. You should be getting the hell out of here while you've still got the chance._

Hermione's warnings about not being seen – vague and contradictory though they were – were chasing themselves through his mind, trying to persuade him to have some damned sense and turn around. But Draco was never one to listen to anyone, especially Hermione, whose credibility had gone down even further when she had been stupid enough to marry a Weasley. And though he couldn't even begin to guess what it was, there was something very odd going on, _had_ been going on for quite some time, and Draco was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"What happens now, Albus?" McGonagall was asking Dumbledore.

"We wait, Minerva," Dumbledore replied quietly. "We wait, and we prepare."

"I cannot help but worry," she admitted ruefully.

"I too worry," Dumbledore conceded. "But I have faith in them. And they shall be well armed."

"Will it be enough?"

"I can think of nothing greater that we could give him."

McGonagall was silent for a moment. "What if he does not realize what we've given him?"

"He will know, Minerva. When the time comes, he will know."

"I hope he is worthy of the trust you place in him."

"Do you truly doubt him that much?"

"I know what he was, Albus."

"As do I, Minerva. But I also know what he _is_."

They walked together in silence for a time.

"We risk so much for one life. If he does not do as you believe that he will…"

"He will."

"We cannot know that."

"I have gotten where I am by trusting in myself, Minerva. And even were my own eyes to be deceived, I do trust Severus."

"It is an easy thing to fake, Albus."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Watch them, Minerva. You will see it, if you watch them. And if you would still doubt, look at the proof before us."

"Perhaps you are right," McGonagall sighed. "And though we have had our differences, I would not have his death come about just because I was afraid to take a risk."

They had reached the gargoyle guarding the stairway to Dumbledore's office. As they waited for the way to be opened, Dumbledore turned to regard McGonagall seriously. "Sometimes Minerva, we must sacrifice all that we are in the hopes of protecting something greater."

_"Sometimes Draco, we must place our trust in someone other than ourselves. And we must follow them, however much it hurts, no matter how much we are afraid. Sometimes, we must make sacrifices for something higher than ourselves."_

"He will do what needs to be done," Dumbledore continued, gesturing for McGonagall to precede him up the stairway. "To do otherwise would be to allow Severus to die. And that is one thing he will not do." Dumbledore turned and started to follow McGonagall up the stairs. After two steps he paused and turned back, his eyes looking directly into Draco's own. "Isn't that right, Mister Malfoy?"

Then he was gone, moving after McGonagall, the opening to the stairway disappearing as the gargoyle snapped back into place. And Draco was left standing in the empty corridor, his eyes wide, as another piece finally snapped into place.

- Scene Shift –

Numb, and completely bewildered, Draco moved through the corridors on autopilot, his feet tracing a familiar path when there were no commands forthcoming from his brain. He walked as if in a dream, the hustle and bustle of activity that swirled around him not truly registering in his mind as happening in the same vicinity – or universe – as he was currently occupying. His eyes were wide and unseeing, his ears deaf to everything but the words that had been spoken to him.

_"He will do what needs to be done. To do otherwise would be to allow Severus to die. And that is one thing he will not do. Isn't that right, Mister Malfoy?"_

The words went round and round, melding together into an unending stream of noise, the individual sounds no longer distinct. And Draco walked on, narrowly avoiding running into students who were unaware of the man in their midst.

After a few minutes or hours, time had since lost its meaning to him, Draco came out of his daze and found himself standing in the middle of his quarters, with no recollection of how he had gotten there or what he was doing there in the first place. Too late, he had the presence of mind to look around and see if his past self was in residence, but his search revealed the rooms to be deserted.

_What was I doing at this time? What _is_ this time?_ He shook his head._ I have no memory of walking in and seeing myself staring back at me. So either I wasn't here when I came back, or I cast _obliviate_ on myself and in any case it really doesn't matter because I don't remember one way or another._ Having reached that decision, Draco took off the invisibility cloak, tossed it on the back of a chair, and took up pacing back and forth along the length of the room.

_He knew I was there. The whole bloody time, he knew I was there,_ Draco thought as his first circuit took him around the room. _And so did she. _Which only meant one thing. _Was that conversation real? Or was it purely for my benefit?_ Had it been anyone else, Draco could believe the former. Since it was Dumbledore, who knew what was going to happen more than a year before it _did_ happen, Draco could only assume the latter.

_But why? Why go through all that trouble when it would have been so much easier to just _tell _me, instead of speaking in such a cryptic manner? Why couldn't you just tell me? What is it that you want me to do? _

Draco had never felt so frustrated in all of his life. He was no stranger to intrigue, having grown up in a family headed by the left hand of the Dark Lord Voldemort. But not even the most convoluted schemes of Voldemort – and Draco would freely admit that Voldemort was a rather poor schemer, even with the help of his inner circle of Death Eaters – could match whatever complicated game Dumbledore was playing.

_He knew the wizarding world would be exposed, and he manipulated events so that the three of us would be in a position to go back in time. He wanted the three of us to come back. Why?_

Why would Dumbledore allow the discovery of the wizarding world just so the three of them could go back in time to figure out that there wasn't a damn thing they could do to stop it from happening? It just didn't make any sense. And while Draco had never possessed the sort of blind faith in Dumbledore that Harry had always had, he did know that the old wizard very rarely ever did or said anything without a particular end in mind. Even those things that seemed the most nonsensical had a purpose. Perhaps _especially_ those things.

_There's got to be something else, some other reason why we're here. But what could possibly be _worse_ than the Muggles destroying our world that would make Dumbledore take such a risk to find a cause to send us back here in the first place?_ They had lost everything when the Muggles had begun the campaign to eradicate them. What could be worse than _that_, Draco couldn't even begin to fathom.

_There's got to be a way to get out of this_, Draco thought desperately. _There has to be something I'm not seeing, some bit of information that I haven't properly considered. Otherwise, what's the point? No, there's got to be a way out of this for us. All of us._

As skeptical as he was, Draco couldn't convince himself that Dumbledore had contrived to place them in an impossible situation. And then there was the conversation between him and McGonagall that smacked more of trying to impart some kind of secret information than a legitimate conversation simply overheard by an outsider.

_ "We risk so much for one life."_

Draco's pacing came to an abrupt halt. When McGonagall had first uttered the words, there had been too many other things vying for Draco's attention, and so he had not given them the attention they deserved. But now, there was nothing to distract, nothing to diminish the impact of the words.

"_One_ life?" he whispered, feeling a cold chill run down his spine. _More lives were lost than simply one. What was she talking about?_ With a growing sense of apprehension, Draco ran the conversation back through his mind.

_"We risk so much for one life. If he does not do as you believe that he will…"_

_ "He will."_

_ "We cannot know that."_

_ "I have gotten where I am by trusting in myself, Minerva. And even were my own eyes to be deceived, I do trust Severus."_

_ "It is an easy thing to fake, Albus."_

_ "Watch them, Minerva. You will see it, if you watch them. And if you would still doubt, look at the proof before us."_

_ "Perhaps you are right. And though we have had our differences, I would not have his death come about just because I was afraid to take a risk."_

_"He will do what needs to be done. To do otherwise would be to allow Severus to die. And that is one thing he will not do."_

Understanding dawned with glacial speed. The entirety of the conversation was still not completely clear to him, but he could comprehend the most important aspect of it. They weren't speaking of the Muggle invasion. They weren't speaking of those who had died in the defense of Hogwarts, nor were they speaking of the death of Ronald Weasley or Harry Potter. They were speaking, Draco finally realized, about Severus Snape. And they weren't speaking of what needed to be done to _achieve_ an alteration in the future, but of what would need to be done _after_ that alteration had been made. _She was right. She may not have known it, but Hermione was right. If we change time – and Dumbledore has as good as said that we will – then Severus _is_ going to die during the incident with Fudge. He'll die, unless someone intervenes and prevents it from happening._

Draco resumed his pacing, torn between the elation of knowing that somehow they truly _would_ succeed and the despair of knowing precisely what price that success would demand of them. As he passed by the mirror that he would one day shatter in defiance of the legacy left to him by his father, his reflection caught his eye, causing him to stop and slowly turn to face the image behind the glass.

_"He will do what needs to be done. To do otherwise would be to allow Severus to die. And that is one thing he will not do. Isn't that right, Mister Malfoy?"_

"Severus is going to die," Draco murmured quietly, looking into the haunted grey eyes staring back at him. "Unless I intervene. But short of killing Fudge before he can plant the evidence in my father's house, I don't see how I can…" His voice trailed off, as he stood there looking into his own eyes. _His_ eyes, consumed by despair and grief, which looked so much like Severus' did now.

_"He will do what needs to be done…"_

Draco's gaze drifted down to the scar on his throat, traced its jagged line until it disappeared into the collar of his shirt.

_"It's funny, this scar. All my life, I've loved it with the same intensity with which I've hated it. When I was a young child, I used to pretend that it made me special. When I came to Hogwarts, I realized that it did, and I hated the way it set me apart from everyone else. All I've ever wanted to do was belong, and suddenly I was isolated and alone, all because of some stupid thing I had no control over. Then I learned that it was the mark of my mother's sacrifice, a tangible sign of her love for me. And suddenly it meant more than just being relegated to the status of freak and pariah. It meant that regardless of everything else, I was still loved, and my life had meaning. Even if only because my mother sacrificed her own for mine." _

_"Though it is couched in the language of free will, I know that in reality I am being offered a Hobson's choice. The outcome is unavoidable. I will sacrifice my life without hesitation, before I will ever sacrifice him. And though I shall lose everything with this one act, this one betrayal, I know that I shall be protecting the only thing that has ever truly mattered to me. The rest is inconsequential." _

With a surprisingly steady hand, Draco ran the tip of his finger along the length of the scar, memorizing the tactile sensation of the torn flesh, feeling the echoes of the past and the future writhing around him. _Sometimes I cannot help but feel as if 'Draco Malfoy' is nothing more than a fictional construct designed to ensure that the sacrifices of those who have gone before me have not been in vain._

_"If you knew then what it is that you know now, what would you have done differently, Draco? If you had known, from the very beginning, what you would find at the end of your life, how would you have changed it? _Would _you have changed it?"_

_No, Father. I would change nothing. And I would trust no one else to do what must be done. I would trust no other with their lives._ His reflection stared back at him, scar obscured by his hand, eerily familiar, as if the elder Malfoy had come one last time to bear witness to the thoughts of his son.

Draco lowered his hand from his throat, then reached out and brushed his fingers across the glass of the mirror._ You said that you would not care if you died that day, Severus, so long as it means that Harry would live. Very well. You _shall_ die that day. And perhaps, many years in the future, long after Harry has helped you to overcome the ghost of my father, you will understand why it was necessary._

- Scene Shift -

"What are we going to do?"

Giving up idle contemplation of the same scenery he had been staring at for the past hour, as the sky had grown progressively darker, Severus turned away from the window and focused on Hermione. "Are you referring to a particular disaster? Or are you asking about the more general state of perpetual catastrophe in which we have found ourselves?"

She grimaced. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"Teachers are only omnipotent to children. As you grow older, you come to realize that we are just as ignorant as the rest of the world," Severus muttered darkly. _I do not have the answers that you seek._

"He will come back," Hermione said quietly after a moment.

"He has no other choice."

They stared at each other in silence. Hermione was searching his face for something, but what it was, Severus did not know and did not particularly care. Undoubtedly it had something to do with his blatant disregard for the outcome of his life, should they prove to be successful in their attempt to change the future. And Severus was _not_ in the mood to entertain objections. _His life is more important than my own. It always has been, ever since this all began. _

"Can we do this, Severus?" Hermione asked him softly. "Can we really change the future?"

"I am not an expert in temporal magic, Hermione," Severus told her, lifting a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. His gaze drifted over to the Time Turner, sitting on a small table that he had found during an earlier search of the room. "This is the first time that I have ever used one of these things."

"It's certainly different from the one Albus gave me during my Third Year," Hermione confessed. "It's larger, and it doesn't even seem to work like the other one."

"How so?" Severus looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Every turn corresponded to an hour," she told him. "One turn and it seems as if this one just arbitrarily chooses a time. It's more random than I thought such an intricate magical device would be."

"Perhaps we are just not using it properly," Severus suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "That's just it though. With the possibility of causing serious continuity problems, it _shouldn't_ be hard to operate," she disagreed. "It's not like it's a computer."

Severus frowned. "Then I should not have too much difficulty in figuring out how it _does_ work."

There were the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of Hermione's lips and she looked about to speak. Severus glowered at her, and eventually she let whatever comment she had been about to make go unsaid, though Severus could still see a glint of amusement in her eyes. For the moment, the grief that was so evident – regardless of how much she tried to hide it – was diminished.

_Is it possible to untangle this paradox? Or have we set out to do the very thing we are trying so desperately to prevent? _There was only one person who knew the answers to those questions, and he had gone beyond Severus' ability to speak with him. _What did you know, Albus? What secret knowledge did you possess, that would have benefited me to know now?_ Severus sighed and rubbed his forehead, wishing he could massage the questions and fears away. _For decades, you were there, an infuriating nuisance, constantly interfering in my life. __And now, when I have the most need for your presence, you are not here._

_"The future is what we make it to be. Do not forget that, Severus."_

_You place too much faith in me, Albus. I have done nothing to warrant such belief in my abilities_, Severus thought wearily, arguing one-sidedly with the memory

"I would think that placing the fate of the world in your hands is a pretty valid display of that belief."

Severus felt a strange stillness blanket his mind, muffling out the sound of Fawkes' talons scraping the back of a chair, blocking out the sight of Hermione before him and the room around him. _My gods, Albus… How long? How long have you known that our world would die? And why in the name of all the gods did you do nothing to prevent it? _

He could recall with crystalline clarity the way Albus had taken to looking at him in the final days, the expression of sorrowful apology that was present whenever the man looked him in the eyes. _Damn you to the deepest depths of hell, you knew and you let Harry die. Why? What the hell do you want me to do?_

There were just too many holes, too much empty space where knowledge was so vitally needed. For nearly fifteen years, Severus had watched in irritation as Albus had taken one risk after another to protect the Boy Who Lived. Now Harry was dead, and Albus, who had known that it was going to happen, had done nothing to prevent it.

_You have done so much in the last four years that has made no sense to me. So many cryptic comments, so many ridiculous requests. And for what?_

It was very rare for Severus to find himself at a complete loss for ideas. Always before, it seemed as if there had been some glimmer of an idea lurking at the back of his mind to extricate himself from the worst of dilemmas, some loophole he could use to slip through the most dangerous of situations. But now his mind had failed him, his carefully cultivated intelligence had let him down.

_Perhaps this is why there are so many rules against time travel…_

Severus blinked. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

He was chasing the tail end of something here. If only he could catch it before it vanished. "When you were given the Time Turner in Third Year, you said that you were given warnings about its use?"

She nodded. "Professor McGonagall was very adamant about the rules I was to follow and how important it was not to deviate from them."

"Why?"

Hermione scowled, looking at him as if his question had disappointed her in some way. "Like I said, it's very dangerous to-"

"Why?" Severus asked again, latching on to the thought and refusing to be distracted by anything else. "If there is nothing we can do, _why_ is it so dangerous? If all we are doing is ensuring that the events we remember happen as we remember them happening, why is it so carefully guarded? Do you not see? There _must_ be another reason. If we were only able to observe the future happening, if all we could do is walk the path already laid before us, then there would be no danger, because we could not affect a change."

"You're saying that we can change the future?"

"I am saying that we can change the past. Albus would not have sent us back here otherwise."

"But he didn't _send_ us back. We chose to come back here."

Severus shook his head. "For the last few years, Albus has been leaving a trail of enigmatic comments for me to follow. Little things he said that never quite meshed with the conversations we were having, things that he never explained and that got lost in the arguments that usually resulted from those conversations. He knew we would come back. He _wanted _us to come back."

"Why? I don't understand. If he knew what was going to happen, why didn't he just stop it?"

"I do not know," Severus admitted.

"So he knew about the exposure and the Muggle reaction before it happened," Hermione began, tallying up the facts that they were reasonably certain of being accurate. "And he knew that you would survive to go back in time, which sort of leads to the fact that he knew Malfoy and I would also survive since we healed you. Right?"

Severus nodded, even though he had been so consumed by other thoughts that he _hadn't_ realized Hermione and Draco's role in the whole thing. Looking back now though, it certainly went a long way in explaining _why_ he had chosen the unlikely pair of them to lead the children's exodus from the castle. _How far does it go, Albus? How much have you set into motion?_ The sheer magnitude of Albus' manipulation was slowly becoming apparent to him, and Severus found himself more than a little uncomfortable with it.

"We also suspect that he wants you to change something," Hermione concluded. "Meaning that time _can_ be changed. Is there anything else we're missing?"

"I am sure that there is quite a bit that we are missing," Severus replied dryly. "However, you have adequately summed up what little knowledge of which we believe ourselves to be in possession."

"Right. So, from here, we go…?" Hermione trailed off, leaving the question dangling unfinished.

"We are too far away." The words spoke themselves without any conscious prompting from his brain. In fact, Severus did not realize he had even spoken until he noticed Hermione looking at him quizzically.

"What do you mean?" she asked, brow furrowed in puzzlement.

_That is a very good question._ Severus rifled through his thoughts, trying to find the one that led to the peculiar pronouncement. When the search revealed nothing, Severus was forced to acknowledge that his own personal thoughts had had very little to do with it and that it was most likely his intuition taking advantage of his distraction. This in itself was mildly disturbing, given the dubious accuracy of Severus' intuitive abilities. In fact, if he were completely honest with himself, Severus knew that the worst of his lifetime of bad decisions had come about by trusting his intuition.

"Brilliant, Snape. Once again you've put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion."

Damn Sirius anyway. It seemed like he had spent his entire life going in circles. Just when he thought that he had gotten away from his old foes and schoolmates, there they all were again, showing up at the least opportune moments, seemingly all conspiring together to make his life a living hell. _Every time I think I leave a portion of my past behind, I turn around to discover that it has never really left at all._

It was enough to make him doubt that time even existed in the first place. After all, one would expect that life would progress and _change_ as time marched on, instead of twisting around to be exactly what it had always been.

"From the time of the exposure," Severus finally answered her, blinking back the circular thoughts and finding himself staring blankly at Fawkes.

The phoenix was returning the stare, golden eyes glittering in a way that seemed eerily meaningful. When it seemed as if the firebird realized that Severus had become cognizant of the stare, Fawkes made a thin, hooting trill and rustled his wings.

Severus raised an eyebrow, well on the way to exasperation. _Now what the hell does that mean?_ He could remember very vividly the way Albus used to speak to the phoenix, as if the two of them had perfectly normal conversations all the time. And who knew, maybe they did. Severus wouldn't put it past the old wizard to know how to communicate with a bird that couldn't speak. "I do not know what it is that you are trying to tell me," Severus resorted to saying, feeling moderately ridiculous as he did so.

Avian eyes narrowed. Then Fawkes uttered a shrill cry that bounced back and forth from wall to wall, gaining in pitch and volume with each successive reverberation through the room. Severus scowled, resisting the urge to wince as visibly as he could see Hermione doing, the both of them taking a few instinctual steps away from the phoenix.

"Stop making so much noise, you damnable bird," Severus snapped as Fawkes continued screeching at what he assumed to be the height of the bird's vocal register. The screeching stopped the moment Severus opened his mouth, leaving his words to echo in the room just as loudly as the shriek had been.

"What was all that about?" Hermione asked in bewilderment, her voice trailing off into silence when Severus raised a hand sharply.

_Stop making so much noise, you damnable bird… Making so much noise… Noise… _There was something there, some hint of a memory that was struggling to make itself known to Severus. _Making noise… Something making…noise…_

Like a rush of light spilling through an open door to drive back the shadows of a darkened room, the memory of a night that was more than a year into the future came racing back to him.

_"I would care to know what you have in your quarters, as you quite obviously were not occupying them."_

_ "That's just Fawkes."_

_ "Albus…" _

_ "Quite right! The very same. Good evening, Fawkes!"_

Severus felt his jaw drop, as he stood there staring at the phoenix, the words spinning around in his mind. _It was us! My gods, we were there in the room. And he _knew

"Severus?" Hermione asked worriedly. "What is it?"

Aware that he was standing there with the same stupid, pole-axed expression that was more frequently seen on Harry's face, Severus shut his mouth quickly and turned away from Fawkes. "I know where we need to go."

"Fawkes told you?" Hermione asked dubiously.

"In a sense," Severus answered vaguely, before continuing soberly, "We are too far back. The Muggles did not find out about our world until about a year from now. We need to be closer to that time if we have any hope of finding out what it was that led to our exposure."

Hermione was looking at him with raised eyebrows, though she nodded without disagreement. "It makes sense. When do you want to go?"

"In the morning," Severus replied decisively. "We are all tired and on edge. I would not have us jeopardizing our success due to weariness."

"What about Malfoy?"

Severus knew what she was asking, though she did not speak the words. Shrugging, Severus moved with aimless nonchalance around the room until he was standing behind her. "Hermione?"

She turned to look at him. "What?"

"Sleep."

The magic reached out to ensnare her before she could protest and Severus caught her before she crumpled to the ground.

- Scene Shift –

Silently opening the door no more than what was necessary to slip by, Draco snuck back into the room, hoping that both Severus and Hermione were asleep. He needed more time to think, to corral his emotions into some semblance of order, and to sleep so that the edge could be taken off his manic weariness. Mentally and emotionally, he was not the least bit prepared for the confrontation he knew was imminent with Severus. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room – the only illumination coming from the faint light of the moon shining through the window – Draco made out the shape of Hermione, lying beneath a blanket, on a bed that hadn't been there when he had left. A quick scan of the room revealed a dark shape leaning against the wall, staring out of the window.

_Gods damn it to hell._ Draco suppressed a sigh, resigning himself to the inevitable as he took off the cloak and carefully folded it up.

"We must talk," Severus said, without looking away from the window.

This time Draco did sigh. "Hermione could use the sleep. We shouldn't wake her." It was the best excuse he could come up with on such short notice.

"She will not awaken until morning."

"You cast a spell on her?" Draco smirked; hoping that he could play the situation away from what he knew was coming. "Is she ever going to be pissed off at you in the morning."

"I wanted to talk to you without interruption," Severus said, turning away from the window to look at him.

_Bad idea, Severus. Bad idea! _

"About what, exactly?" Draco asked grudgingly, hearing how peevish he sounded and not particularly caring.

"You are angry with me."

If there was ever a set of words spoken at precisely the wrong moment, those were it. Draco's miniscule amount of patience, already eroded by the events of the day, snapped. "You're damn right I am!"

"Draco, you must-"

"I must nothing!" Draco interrupted him angrily; finding himself growing more incensed the longer Severus persisted in speaking with cool detachment. "Who are you, to tell me what I _must_ do?"

"You are being irrational."

Draco's eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed dangerously. "_I_ am being irrational? Really?" He laughed sarcastically. "Oh I _do_ apologize, Severus. And here I was, laboring under the mistaken impression that it was _you_ who were being a bloody, thrice-damned fool."

"Draco-"

"How _dare_ you?" Draco snarled, the words tearing their way out of his throat as he took an involuntarily step forward. "How _dare_ you tell me that I should stand aside and let you die? How _dare_ you tell me to fill the void your death would leave in Harry's life? _How dare you make me buy him with your life_?"

Severus rubbed at his forehead wearily. "I did not suggest that-"

"That's bullshit and you know it! Don't start lying to me." Draco glared at him, as Severus stared back silently. _Damn it all, Severus, why won't you _listen_ to me?_ He tried again. "You're going to _die_, Severus. Don't you realize that?"

"You do not know that for sure."

"The hell I don't. Dumbledore told me."

"Albus told you? When?" Severus demanded, eyes narrowing.

_Whoops. _"Earlier today."

For one brief instant, Draco had the satisfaction of striking Severus speechless. And then, "What did you do?" Severus growled, moving forward before he had finished speaking. "You bloody little fool, what the _hell_ did you do?"

"Hid underneath the invisibility cloak and spied on his conversation with McGonagall," Draco spat irritably, scowling at Severus as the man stopped in front of him, looking murderous. "You've long since lost the ability to scare me, Severus, so you might as well stand down and stop trying to be intimidating."

They glared at each other, the silence stretching out between them practically vibrating with tension. _You started this, you bastard. You're going to finish it. _

"What happened?" Severus asked finally. He didn't stop glaring at Draco, but he wasn't looking quite so angry any longer either.

"I happened upon Dumbledore having a talk with Hooch. So I stayed to eavesdrop. Then, when he left, I followed him and was there to overhear what he and McGonagall were talking about when she caught up to him."

"And he said that I was going to die?" Severus sounded skeptical.

"Yes he damn well did." It was taking all of Draco's limited willpower not to grab him and try to shake some sense into him. "And then, before they walked away into his office, he looked me right in the eyes and asked me if I would let it happen."

"He knew you were there."

It didn't sound like a question, but yet, "Yes," Draco affirmed. "He knew."

"Then he was attempting to manipulate you. For what purpose, I truly have no idea, but I know Albus well enough to recognize the signs."

Draco gaped at him. "Manipulate me into what? Damn it, Severus, he said you were going to _die._"

"What did he want you to do about it?" Severus asked blandly, sounding thoroughly bored with the discussion.

Draco could feel his eyelid twitching. "To not let it happen."

Severus shrugged. "Whatever Albus may have told you, whether or not I die is completely irrelevant."

"That's not true!"

"The world needs him, Draco. If he must be lost, I would rather that he be lost to me than to the world."

"_He_ won't be lost to _you_," Draco ground out through teeth clenched in frustration. "_You_ will be lost to _him._"

"He will have you."

"I don't _want_ him!" Draco exploded.

"Now it is _you_ who are lying."

It was more a baring of teeth than it was a smile that twisted Draco's lips. "Am I, Severus? Or are you hoping that I am? How little you know me, if you truly believe me to be capable of that."

Severus rubbed at his head as if he had a headache. "I will not let him die, Draco," he said, sighing wearily.

"Nor will I let you," Draco replied quietly.

"You must. For his sake. And for mine."

"For _you_?" Draco echoed incredulously, reeling back as if Severus had hit him. "For _you_? What about _me_?" Suddenly he was yelling, twenty-four years of frustration, disappointment, and pain finally finding an outlet. "What about _me_? What about what I want? What about _my_ sake? Ever since I was a child, everything I have ever _done_ has been for the sake of someone else! For my _mother_! For my _father_! For _Voldemort_! For _you_! For _Harry_!"

Draco spun away from Severus then, angrily stalking across the room before turning back to him. "What more do you want from me? I've given _everything_ I have! My life, my blood, my _future_! Everything that was ever mine I gave away for the sake of someone else! What _more_ can I give?"

_Damn you! Damn you, Severus, for doing this to me! And damn me for allowing you to!_ His heart pounding, Draco stood there glaring furiously across the distance separating them, his breathing fast and shallow, his lungs not drawing in nearly enough air to ease the suffocating clenching in his chest.

"What do you want?"

Draco couldn't stop himself from laughing. "You want to know what I want?" he asked sarcastically once the laughter had passed. "Really?"

"Tell me," Severus insisted softly.

Draco's eyes narrowed and for a moment he considered ignoring the request. But then he started speaking with a candor he very rarely allowed himself. "I want this disaster with these accursed Muggles to have never happened. I want Harry to be alive, having never known what it's like to watch a world die. I want Weasley to be alive, that Harry never knows what it is to lose his best friend. I want you to be whole, no longer haunted by the ghost of my father. And I want you and Harry to be alive, to be _together_, so that you can both have the kind of family neither one of you ever had."

The furious anger drained away as rapidly as it had exploded, leaving him exhausted and shaken. "_That_ is what I want for me," Draco finished quietly, turning away to stare moodily out of the window. _You've all done such a good job, not even _I_ care about me._

The air was still outside, no breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees. And in the velvety darkness of the sky, the moon shone, casting a cold, silvery radiance down onto the world below. Unconsciously, Draco raised a hand to the scar on his throat, running his fingers over it lightly as he stared out into the night. _It wasn't supposed to be like this. I don't remember how it _should_ have been, but I know it shouldn't have been like this. I just… I just don't know where it all went wrong. _

There was something hypnotic about the stark scene on the other side of the glass, something that was pulling at him, making him long to just turn his back on everything else and walk outside, to allow the darkness to embrace him and vanish into the night. _I'm so tired of giving a damn about everyone else but myself. _

"Draco."

"Go to bed, Severus," Draco muttered without turning around. "You won't do anyone any favors if you collapse from exhaustion tomorrow." _Just leave me alone._

He felt more than heard the older Slytherin moving across the room. A moment later, he felt a cool hand settle over the hand that was still idly caressing the scar.

"Stop," Severus murmured into his ear.

The smirk was habitual. "It isn't going to get worse if I pick at it, Severus."

"Draco…" The fingers tightened warningly on his own.

Draco briefly entertained the notion of ignoring him, then sighed and obediently allowed Severus to pull the hand away from his throat. It was only when Severus did not release his hand that Draco scowled. "Severus-"

"You need to tell me what to do," Severus cut him off. "I have no experience with this."

Draco shook his head. "It's not your job, Severus." _I'm the one who should be comforting you, not the other way around. Go away._

"Then what is my 'job', Draco?"

"To save Harry," Draco replied easily. "To prove my father wrong and show the world that there are such things as happy endings."

"What about you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Everyone can't have a happy ending, Severus. If they did, it wouldn't be special. It wouldn't be anything but an ending. It's only by knowing what we lack that we know what we have."

_ "If there is a reality for every choice we are given, then it stands to reason that we must feel and experience everything."_ The memory of Severus' words rang so clearly in Draco's mind. And judging by the way Severus' fingers tightened on his hand, he knew that Severus was remembering them as well.

"There needs to be unhappy endings," Draco concluded quietly. "Otherwise we wouldn't recognize the happy ones. And we wouldn't appreciate them for their rarity."

"Draco…"

"We do what we must, Severus. There's always something that must be done, and sometimes, all we can truly do is that which lies before us." _You'll understand. If we succeed, we'll never have existed to have this conversation. But even without it, one day, you'll understand what I must do._

"You are not the only one who is trapped in a repetition of the past, Draco," Severus whispered.

Draco closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. _Damn it all to hell. Why? Why did you tell me that?_ He was unable to find the words to protest when he felt himself pulled back against Severus' chest as the man wrapped his other arm around him. Leaning his head back against Severus' shoulder, Draco looked up at him wryly. "You aren't doing yourself any favors here, Severus. Don't you think you should have waited with that until _after_ I had agreed to let you die?"

"I am not trying to convince you to let me die."

"Then why would you-"

"You deserve to know the truth."

_Your timing is terrible on that one, Severus. _"I won't do it, you know."

Severus sighed. "If it means that Harry would live-"

"What if there was another way?" Draco asked neutrally, cutting off the beginning of the argument. "What if there was a way to save Harry _and _prevent Fudge from killing you? Then what? Would you still so needlessly throw your life away?"

"If there was such a way, then of course I would not."

"Promise me that."

"What?"

"You heard me. Promise me that if there's another way, you won't sacrifice yourself."

"Very well. I promise."

Facing away from him, with the darkness as an extra measure of concealment, Draco smiled. "Oh, and Severus?"

"Yes?"

Draco twisted around so that he was looking Severus in the eyes. "Go to sleep," he murmured, throwing out the spell before he had even begun speaking. The older man was asleep before he knew what had happened.

_You're both going to be pissed off when you wake up_, Draco thought a few minutes later as he looked at the sleeping forms of Hermione and Severus, lying next to each other. Draco had no idea how to convince the magical room to provide another bed, and he really wasn't in the mood to try.

Looking over at the chair Fawkes was using as a perch, Draco grinned. "Do me a favor, Fawkes. In the morning, when they wake up and try to murder me, keep me safe, okay?"

The phoenix made a noncommittal hoot and rustled his feathers.

Turning away from them all, Draco found himself looking out of the window again. It was a long time before he was tired enough to sleep. And when he finally did succumb to sleep – lying in a pile of cloaks he carelessly spread out on the floor – the dreams, when they came, were dreams of fire.


	6. Chapter 6: In the Care of Magical Creatu...

Chapter 6: In the Care of Magical Creatures

The morning, when it dawned, was a glorious sight. The sun rose above the tops of the mountains ever so slowly, its rays sliding down the slopes on tongues of flame and setting the valley ablaze with light. It was as if the whole world had been lit on fire.

It must have seemed that way to Draco as well. He had awakened with ease, his eyes surprisingly alert for the fitfulness of his slumber, and it was only when he had turned his head toward the window and his gaze settled on the sight of the sun burning in the sky that his eyes had narrowed and his expression had become cold and forbidding. Now, an hour later, he was leaning against the wall, staring moodily at the sky and ignoring the silent glares that were being exchanged on the other side of the room.

Waking to discover that they had both been victim to a magical spell had begun the day badly for Hermione and Severus, exacerbated by the realization that they had been sharing the same five feet for the duration of the night. Sparks had crackled in the intervening space between them as they had hurriedly gotten out of the bed and Severus had established his personal boundaries once again. Now the older Slytherin was looking put out with the world in general, and Hermione and Draco specifically, while Hermione herself was looking moderately offended and betrayed. That they both periodically shot looks of ill-concealed annoyance at Draco went unnoticed by the younger man.

_What a motley bunch to be given the task of saving the world. And yet, is there truly any better?_ When all things were considered, the answer was doubtful. Odd, how the future so often relied most heavily on the turning of one individual's life. That so many countless points of light could be extinguished or given a greater length of time to shine, all at the behest of one who might never know of one's importance.

Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding world. _I wonder if you will ever truly understand why so many call you a savior? They themselves will never know the reason for the title that was bestowed upon you. Just as they will never know where that title originated._

Strange, how humans put so much stock in their history, believing it to be absolute truth when in fact it was a greater fantasy than the legends and stories passed down from one generation to the next. Icons were remembered and revered, rarely for who they truly were, but for what was attributed to them. And those who were the real shapers of history, those who fought and bled and lost, were forgotten, drowned in the shadows of those whose sake they gave of themselves.

Two hundred years from now, who would remember the name Draco Malfoy? Who would recognize Hermione Granger? Who would mistake Albus Dumbledore? But who would forget Harry Potter? Like Merlin himself, they would be immortalized for deeds they had not done. They would be remembered as people they never were.

_"History has been rewritten for lesser things."_

Albus knew. Albus understood. And Albus knew _why._

_Everything we touch is changed. Yet whether it is set alight or withers to ash lies beyond our control. All we can do is hope that we have not chosen wrongly. _

When Draco had first come to Hogwarts, he had been a cold and shriveled shadowy thing, bereft of light and fire. One wayward spark and the shadows had fled. The ice had melted away. Even now, muted through it was by confusion and frustration, banked by grief and anger, Draco's fire burned with a brilliance that refused to be diminished.

And there was Severus Snape, possessed of a fire that rivaled that of the great Albus Dumbledore, yet it had lain dormant and smothered beneath the ashes of his past. One unforeseen breeze, stirring idly at the embers, and the fire had awoken in a blaze.

Even Hermione Granger, so often relegated to the role of sidekick, burned with a warm, golden glow so rarely seen in the hearts of humankind. And even in the midst of tragedy, it refused to die away.

It was such a small thing, so easily gained and tossed away. Yet for humans, it was all that mattered. They sought it, they hated it, they denied it, they longed for it, they dream of it, they warped it and twisted it beyond all recognition. But for love, they were willing to overturn the world.

For thousands of years, he had watched them. He had observed their struggles and their lives, he had found himself baffled and confused by their actions. Then, for thousands more, he had lived among them, choosing from the growing multitudes those whose fire burned the brightest, and he had learned about them. He had gained insight into why they thought the way they did, why they felt so strongly about the most bizarre of things. And as they had slowly left their mark on him, so he began to alter them.

_If you knew what I know, you would not worry so. Before the Day of Burning comes, you will understand. And you will not be afraid._

Ruffling his feathers, Fawkes lifted a talon and idly scratched at the side of his head.

- Scene Shift –

_I feel like I'm losing my mind._

It wouldn't be surprising, all things considered. Take one incredibly fucked up childhood, add a liberal dose of conflicting emotions, and stir in a heap of tragedy and despair. Yes, he could very clearly see the recipe for insanity looming ever closer on the horizon of his mind.

That the sun's light felt like fire on his skin wasn't helping matters either. Nor was the dry crackling hovering just at the edge of his hearing, as if dead leaves were being blown into a bonfire. All he needed now was to start hearing voices that weren't there. And if he listened hard enough, if he focused all of his attention on that strange sound...

Draco rubbed furiously at his head. _This isn't happening to me. I am _not _going insane. I can't go insane. Not now. Not until this is over._ Of course, if everything went according to his admittedly shaky plan, there wouldn't be anything left of him to go insane. Which was probably just as well.

Feeling eyes watching him, Draco slowly lowered his hands and turned his head, expecting to see either Severus or Hermione glaring at him. Instead, he found himself staring into Fawkes' golden eyes.

_If I didn't know better, I'd think it was you_, Draco thought, realizing as the thought passed through his mind that he knew as much about the phoenix as he knew about the Muggle world: next to nothing. And if they could communicate with people, wouldn't that be common knowledge? _Of course, the fact that phoenix tears have healing properties is pretty common knowledge and you were clueless about that_, Draco reminded himself snidely. _Maybe everyone knows that they can talk, too. 'Excuse me, Hermione? Yes, I was wondering, does a phoenix have any other special abilities aside from the healing tears? Like…speaking? 'Cause I think Fawkes is trying to communicate with me.' _Yes, _that_ would certainly go far in trying to convince people he was in full possession of his mental faculties.

As if he knew what Draco was thinking, Fawkes cocked his head to one side and gave a reedy little chirp. Draco raised an eyebrow. Fawkes ruffled his feathers, managing to look entirely unconcerned. Draco sighed. _So much for that theory._

Looking around, Draco suddenly noticed the argument that was taking place on the opposite side of the room. _How long has _that_ been going on?_

"If we're going to be a successful team," Hermione was saying, sounding as if she were trying very hard to be diplomatic. "We-"

"I do not recall stating my intention to fill in for Mister Weasley while the Trio is out of commission," Severus interrupted coolly, glaring at her from beneath the tangled mass of his hair.

_We need to find ourselves a shower_, Draco thought, looking at the two of them. Their robes were dirty – Severus' was torn in quite a few places – and their hair was tangled and lank. While he could not see himself, Draco could feel the tangled knots of his own hair and knew that from the amount of times he had found himself lying on the ground, he was just as dirty as the others.

"I never said that you were," Hermione continued, and although she was now frowning, she was still maintaining her grip on patience. "However, you-"

"I also do not recall giving you permission to touch me," Severus interjected again.

"And I don't recall inviting you to cast a spell on me!" Hermione snapped, thoroughly abandoning her attempt at patience and glaring at Severus angrily.

"You mean that I should have asked your permission first?" Severus asked sarcastically, feigning surprise. "And to think that all of these years I have been operating under the assumption that one does not inform the other party that one is about to cast an offensive spell!"

"You shouldn't be casting offensive spells on your friends in the first place!"

"When did I ever claim to be your friend?"

"Okay, that's enough," Draco intervened, walking over and positioning himself between the two of them. "I seem to have lost the thread of the argument here. What's the problem?"

Severus glared at him. "As if you have any room to talk."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, wincing as Severus' eyes widened a fraction and his mouth snapped shut. "I meant about casting spells on other people," Draco hastened to explain, recognizing that expression as Severus taking his words to mean something entirely different. "You put Hermione to sleep, I put you to sleep…" Draco trailed off with a groan and rubbed at his eyes.

"Look, I'm hungry, I'm dirty, and I feel really greasy," Draco tried again, glancing back and forth between them. "Plus I'm sore and stiff from sleeping on the floor. Now looking at the two of you, I'd say that you're both probably feeling the same, and since the two of you probably ate as much as I did in the last few days, I'd wager you're also fairly hungry. So instead of taking out our discomfort and worry on each other, why don't we figure out what we're doing so that we can go find ourselves a shower or something and some food?" Replaying his words through his mind caused Draco to pale in alarm. "Oh good gods…"

"What?" Hermione asked, immediately picking up on his panic.

"I'm turning into the reasonable one!" Draco exclaimed, staring at her in horror. He turned to Severus. "Quick, _Avada Kedavra _me now before I disgrace myself further!"

Severus snorted and rolled his eyes. "You have also taken over as the resident drama queen. I do hope you are proud of yourself."

_Give me credit for trying here, Severus. It's not as if I have a lot to work with. And last time I checked, I was more adept at _causing_ bad feelings than trying to _fix_ them._

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, Severus," Hermione said a moment later, after her own chuckles had died away. "I understand why you cast that spell on me. A suggestion to go to sleep probably wouldn't have worked, I'd have wanted to stay awake and try to work out a solution to this mess."

"And while I do hope that you retain control of your wandering hands, I too did not mean to argue with you," Severus conceded with some small amount of grace.

"I really was asleep," Hermione added with a sheepish grin. "I didn't know what I was doing. Honest."

"Right, well, I'm sure I don't want to know what it is that you're both talking about," Draco said slyly. "And I promise that when we've saved the world, I won't mention anything about your little tryst to the Weasel or Potter."

"Mister Malfoy…" Severus said warningly.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione shook her head wearily, as if putting up with him was just too much to ask so early in the morning.

Draco contented himself to smirking at her. _Well, that's one disaster averted anyway._ He looked at Severus. "So, what's the plan?"

"We are moving forward in time," Severus replied succinctly, then at Draco's raised eyebrow, briefly outlined the conversation he and Hermione had had the night before.

"Makes sense to me," Draco said, moving over to the satchel lying on the floor and checking to make sure that the invisibility cloak and the Marauders Map were neatly stowed away. "Let's go."

Severus had retrieved the Time Turner and was standing in the center of the room, staring at it doubtfully. Hermione drifted over and after collecting Fawkes, Draco made his way over as well.

"There's a bit of a problem with the Time Turner," Hermione said, when Draco started making impatiently gestures at their lack of forward progression.

Draco could feel his face blanching. "Don't tell me you broke it. If we're stuck back here…"

Hermione gave him a withering look. "You do realize that there's a Ministry of Magic in this time, right? And that if something happens to the Time Turner, we can always go to the Ministry and get another one."

Draco found himself fighting off the urge to stick his tongue out at her. _Put us all in a room together and we revert to childish behavior no matter how old we are. I'm sure that if Potter were here, he'd have some kind of stupid, half-assed explanation that he stole off his Muggle friend._

"It isn't broken," Severus interrupted Draco's pondering, glancing up from the hourglass. "We are just unsure of how to use it properly. Thus far, it has been rather arbitrary in its choice of destinations."

"I don't know how arbitrary it's been," Draco replied, looking down at it. "I mean, think about it. We've been going about ensuring that what we remember happening really has happened. You wiped out the Muggles and you ran into Potter and myself in this time, just as we remember you doing," he added, tactfully not mentioning that they had interfered with Harry's concentration during the assault on the castle and had more than likely been the cause of his death.

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked warily.

"I'm saying that I think it's doing what it's supposed to be doing."

Severus shook his head. "I do not want to leave the success of this mission to chance."

"Do you have any idea how to work that thing?" Draco asked bluntly.

"Not as such," Severus admitted. "No."

In many ways, Draco could only be considered a Malfoy by virtue of his uncanny resemblance to his father and his surname. Draco, on the whole, did not share the philosophies and tenets by which the Malfoy family had lived and prospered. But there were some things, ingrained through centuries of tradition, which could not be erased by any amount of time or experience. These things included the belief that people did what they were supposed to do without the need for constant monitoring, that things worked the way they were supposed to work, and that all one had to do to get what one wanted was to let others know of one's desires.

When all other avenues had been exhausted, Draco – like every other person everywhere – fell back on what he knew best. "All right, look here thing," he snapped, grabbing the Time Turner from Severus and glaring at it. "You're to take us forward to where we need to go. No detours. Got that?" he finished, punctuating his command by turning the hourglass over and giving it a good shake.

"You idiot!" Hermione yelled, reaching out to take it from him.

But it was already too late.

The sand flashed with incandescent light. And the room around them vanished.

- Scene Shift –

-

It was still the Room of Requirement. That much Severus could ascertain by a quick glance around. Which meant that the castle had not yet fallen. However, that left a rather long history of the castle's existence open to conjecture as to when precisely they were. For all he knew, they could now be hundreds of years in the past, or minutes away from the castle's destruction. As with any situation where his control over it had been undermined, Severus could feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing to life in his temple.

Scowling, Severus reached over and grabbed the Time Turner out of Draco's hands. "If you are trying to compensate for the absence of Potter's idiocy by engaging in some of your own, I assure you, I do not appreciate it."

Draco heaved a rather theatrically overdone sigh, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the way Severus was glaring at him. "And here I did all that hard work for nothing," he quipped, rolling his eyes. "Give me a break, Severus. I just saved us a few hours of inaction and circular bickering."

_And provided us with a few wasted hours of lateral bickering. What a marvelous improvement. _"Be that as it may," Severus opted to say instead, "I would ask you not to do that again."

"You can't just start fooling around with intricate magical instruments," Hermione added, frowning at Draco as if she actually possessed some sort of expectations for the man that he had summarily disappointed. "You don't know what might have happened."

"It's a Time Turner, Hermione," Draco responded blandly. "Worse case scenario, we end up in the wrong time, at which point we use the damn thing again. It's not like we can screw up the world worse than it is already."

"Still," she persisted, "that was an incredibly irresponsible thing to do."

"Why?" Draco asked, looking thoroughly bewildered. "We don't know what time we're supposed to be in anyway."

"You don't know what you're doing!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration.

"It isn't like you do either!"

"I know more about it than you do!"

_When are these imbeciles ever going to grow up?_ Severus wondered with morose resignation. _It has been over two decades and they still carry on as if they were adolescent brats. _That he himself had just recently been extricated from a similarly juvenile display of pique by one of the aforementioned imbeciles, Severus blithely ignored.

"That is enough," Severus said sharply, cutting through the bickering. "Mister Malfoy, you did not so impress upon me your reasonable maturity that you need to go to such lengths to reassert your childish stupidity. And as for you, Miss Granger…"

Draco grinned at him. "It's good to know that you're feeling better, Severus."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "Care to explain that little mental maneuver?"

"You're mocking us again," Draco replied, as if that answer in itself ought to be explanation enough. When Severus kept staring at him, he continued with the resigned tones of one who feels as if the world just doesn't think enough of him. "The more despondent you feel, the more human you act toward the rest of the world. But once you begin to come out of your depression, you start becoming unfriendly and openly insulting. Don't worry Severus, Potter and I are probably the only people who've solved the mystery of your prickly personality. Er, and Hermione here, since she just heard me."

Severus rolled his eyes, not even deigning to dignify the amateur psychoanalysis with a response. _One Ben Collins is enough of a travesty to inflict upon the world. We do not need another one._ "Do I need to remind the two of you why we are here, or would you both like to return to the task at hand without further prompting?"

"Why don't we use the cloak?" Hermione suggested. "One of us can go out into the castle and see when we are."

It was the first intelligent comment Severus had heard all day. "I will go," he told her, then turned to Draco and extended his hand. "Lend me the cloak, Draco. I shall-" he trailed off as his brain caught up to the image that his eyes were showing him.

Draco was facing in Severus' direction and at first glance appeared to be listening to him. But his eyes were glazed and unfocused, seeming to be looking through Severus instead of at him.

"Draco?" Severus asked quietly.

"'The best place for any meetings of a secretive nature is my office,'" Draco whispered, sounding as if he were quoting someone. His eyes continued to stare into some middle distance only visible to him.

"What?" Severus glanced past him to Hermione, who looked back at him in bewilderment and shook her head. _What the hell is going on? _A tendril of anxiety curled through Severus' chest at the continued sight of Draco's unseeing eyes, made worse by the sound of his hollow voice. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Reaching out, Severus laid a hand on his arm. "Draco!"

Draco jumped as if he had been startled and turned to look at Severus. "Huh? What?" he asked, blinking his eyes and rubbing distractedly at the side of his face.

"Are you all right?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that some kind of trick question?"

"What just happened there?" Hermione asked.

"I just…had an idea," Draco replied vaguely, sounding to Severus as if he were not the least bit convinced of his own assessment. Severus' suspicion was confirmed when he heard Draco mutter under his breath, "I think."

"Throughout my life, I have found that no other phrase instills in me quite as much apprehension as that particular one does," Severus replied, watching him warily. _I do not need another problem on top of everything else. _For what seemed like the millionth time, Severus found himself wondering why he was always the poor unfortunate who had to be saddled with every disaster and every idiot prone to create more of them.

"You and me both," Draco smiled weakly at him before shaking his head. "Listen just, trust me okay? I think I know how to solve _this _problem at least."

Severus glanced over Draco's head to Hermione, who seemed to be trying to telegraph with her eyes a frantic request for him to stop Draco before the younger man did something stupid or managed to get them all killed. Severus sighed. _Why does it always end up falling to me? _"Fine. Just get on with it."

Draco threw a smirk at Hermione, quite clearly designed to let her know that he had noticed the looks being exchanged over his head, and held out his hands to both of them.

"What exactly do you want me to do with _that_?" she asked, eyeing the proffered hand as if it were a particularly lethal species of snake.

Severus saw the gleam of mischief in Draco's eyes a second before he opened his mouth. "If this is some half-assed contrivance to hold my hand," he snapped warningly, effectively cutting off the comment he knew was about to emerge from Draco's mouth.

Draco raised an eyebrow as he cast Severus a glance. _Nice save, Severus_, the grey eyes told him. "Potter's not here, Severus. It just wouldn't be nearly as much fun."

"And now we know with certainty that _you_ are feeling better," Severus said dryly, as he took Draco's hand loosely in his own. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Hermione roll her eyes before she did the same.

The corner of Draco's lips twitched, but he turned his head toward the phoenix perched on his shoulder without further comment. "Fawkes, take us to Dumbledore's office."

A flash of fire flared up to engulf them, and when it had cleared away they were standing in the middle of the Headmaster's office. Albus himself was absent, but as he looked around, Severus saw that the office was not completely empty. Fawkes sat on his customary perch beside the desk, watching them curiously.

Severus didn't know what he was expecting to happen, as his gaze flashed back and forth between the phoenix on Draco's shoulder and the one by the desk, but he found his body tensing as he unconsciously braced himself for the worst.

_"You must not be seen."_ It was the first and most important rule of time travel.

_"You must not be seen."_ But no one had ever said why. Or explained what would happen if one _was _seen.

When nothing continued to happen for the next few minutes, Severus felt himself begin to relax. There was no bright flash of light, no wrenching sound of space and time being torn in two, no abrupt plunging into darkness as the world ceased to exist. And Severus had to admit – deep down in the depths of his mind where the sadistic part of him lurked – that he was just the tiniest bit disappointed. After all the fuss, some bit of chaotic destruction was just _expected_.

"Severus?" Hermione called from in front of the Headmaster's desk, breaking into his reverie. "I think you ought to take a look at this."

Curious, Severus walked over. When he caught sight of what she was pointing at, he stopped and stared. Here it was, the tangible proof that validated all of his suspicions about the nature of Albus' involvement in the current situation. _Where is the relief that I should be feeling? Should not the knowledge that he was aware of everything bring me some measure of comfort? Why do I suddenly feel even more apprehensive about all of this? _

"Okay, what are we staring at?" Draco asked, coming up behind him and peering over Hermione's shoulder. "Oh… He really did know…"

Such an innocuous platter of sandwiches and a still steaming pot of tea surrounded by three mugs should not have caused the room to fill with such ominous silence. Of course, it could also have stemmed from the envelope that was lying in front of the sandwiches with their names scrawled across it in Albus' unmistakable handwriting.

The three of them exchanged a glance.

"You probably ought to open it," Hermione said quietly, gesturing toward the envelope.

"Go on, Severus. It has your name on it," Draco added, his voice just as hushed as Hermione's.

_Why the hell are we whispering?_ Severus thought irritably, snatching the envelope off the desk and glaring at it as if it held the answers to all of his questions and was refusing to divulge them. _It is just an envelope. _He turned the thing over in his hands carefully, noting Albus' seal on the back.

_If it is just an envelope, why are you afraid to open it? _A snide voice spoke up within Severus' mind, after a moment had passed and he had still not broken the seal.

_Oh, bugger off,_ Severus shot back, snapping the seal and opening the envelope. It was never a promising sign of the state of affairs when Severus started arguing with himself. As he withdrew the parchment and unfolded it, all internal arguments ceased.

_Severus,_

_Rest assured that you are where – and most importantly when – you need to be. I cannot make your task any easier, but perhaps I can lend aid in making it more comfortable. During your stay in this time, please make yourselves at home in my quarters. No one shall enter and disturb you, nor will you need to search for food and drink, as plenty of both shall be provided to you. All I ask is that whenever you leave my quarters to please do so in concealment, as I cannot guarantee that my office shall be empty. I shall take care of the mundane necessities of daily life that you may focus more completely on the task before you._

I am deeply sorry that you had to endure this. I know that it is not an easy task. If I could tell you what it is that you need to do, I would. But I cannot. All of the information that I could give you, without jeopardizing your success, I have, and while it may not seem like much, please trust me that it is enough. The task seems impossible, but know that it is not. You carry the solution within you. You need only to remember. And to have faith in yourself and those that travel with you. The dawn will come, Severus. I promise you that.

_Forgive me, Severus, for what I have put you through. But there truly was no other way. _

_Albus Dumbledore_

Severus looked up from the letter, glanced over the faces of Draco and Hermione, looked down at the food arrayed on the desk before them, and raised his head again, scowling at the world in general. _The most grievous harm is that which we do not intend to cause. You know that as well as I, Albus. _

"It's bad, isn't it?" Draco asked softly.

Severus shook his head as he sighed in resignation. "Not bad, as such. It is just the typical Albus non-explanation. Read it for yourself."

Draco took the letter from his hand and read through it before handing it off to Hermione. "He said that you've got the way out of this mess rattling around inside your head," Draco murmured, looking at him questioningly.

"He also said that he had no wish to cause harm," Severus retorted. "I fail to see what good either statement does us, as the harm has been done and I have no idea what in the nine hells he is talking about."

"Well, I've got a suggestion," Hermione offered, handing the letter back to Severus.

"We're all ears here, Hermione."

"Albus said that we've got the run of his rooms without fear of discovery, and he's made sure that we've got enough to eat and drink. Why don't we make use of what he's given us?"

"Not a bad idea," Draco replied, nodding his agreement. "I know I could do with a shower."

Severus shrugged, idly picking at the edge of the envelope. _The mantle of your expectations continues to grow heavier, Albus. How long before I can no longer shoulder the responsibility you have placed upon me? _It was madness. Total, incomprehensible madness.

When Draco and Hermione picked up the impromptu lunch the Headmaster had laid out for them and headed into his quarters, Severus followed along behind them, lost in the thought. And when the squabble began, he watched with bemused incomprehension.

"Well, now that that's decided, I'm going to take a shower," Draco announced, putting down the sandwiches and turning toward the bathroom.

"Hey, wait a minute," Hermione hurriedly divested herself of the teapot and mugs and grabbed the back of his robe. "Why don't _you_ eat and I'll go take a shower?"

"Because I'm dirty!" Draco exclaimed in disgust. "I don't want to eat when I'm dirty!"

"Neither do I!"

"Hey, you got the bed! I had to sleep on the floor last night."

"Whose fault was that?" Hermione shot back. "_You_ were the one who put Severus in bed with me after you put him to sleep."

"Well I wasn't going to sleep with _you_! Good gods woman, then you would have been molesting _me_ in my sleep!"

"Draco Malfoy!"

"What are you, my mother?"

The yelling had finally reached a point where it interrupted Severus' thoughts and brought him out of his maudlin daze. _Oh, now what are these idiots bickering about? My gods, is five minutes without their incessant bitching really _that_ much to ask for?_ Thoroughly irritated, Severus spun around and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. At least in the shower, he could find some measure of solitude.

- Scene Shift –

"Tell me what is going on."

The request was spoken quietly, so quietly in fact that Draco just barely heard it and had to take a moment to process what it was that he was being asked to provide. It crossed his mind to feign ignorance and divert the conversation to other, less personal things during the ensuing verbal confusion, but eventually he dismissed that possibility as not being worth the effort it would take to sufficiently distract Severus away from his inquiry.

Besides, as much as he had been hoping Severus wouldn't have noticed or would have forgotten, Draco knew that there was very little that truly escaped the man's attention. Especially when someone was trying to hide something from him.

"I don't suppose you'd answer a question for me first?" Draco asked, more for the sake of asking than with any real hope of getting away with it.

"What question?" Severus asked, surprising him.

"How you knew something was wrong."

The corner of Severus' lips twitched. "You have been acting like an idiot all day."

"That sort of implies that you don't think I'm an idiot all the time," Draco pointed out.

"You are not."

Draco laughed wryly. "I ought to ask you to put that in writing. An admission like that would be worth something when we return home."

"I am sure I can pilfer some spare parchment from Albus' office," Severus responded gamely, surprising him further.

It was an odd, bittersweet feeling that filled him then, as he stood there with Severus and engaged in the banter. Like nostalgia, poignant and a little painful, not because of what could never be again, but for what was never going to be in the first place. _My gods, I'm going to miss this_, Draco thought, smiling sadly. _I don't know how you can miss something you've never had, but I'm going to miss it all the same. _

"Draco?"

He shook his head, chasing the thoughts away. "I don't really know how to explain it to myself, Severus. Not sanely, at any rate."

"So tell me the insane version."

Draco studied his face in silence for a moment, before nodding and glancing away to reassure himself that Hermione had not yet emerged from the shower. Having been the last one to gain access to the bathroom, Draco doubted that she would be in a hurry to leave.

"I'm hearing things that aren't there," he told Severus as he turned back to him. "And I'm seeing things that I shouldn't be seeing."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "What are you seeing?"

"Earlier, when we were talking about what to do, I remembered hearing Dumbledore tell McGonagall about his office. And then I had a… I guess you could call it a vision of the place. Only, I saw things that I shouldn't have remembered. I mean," he cast about in his mind, trying to find the words to express what he meant. "I've been in his office all of like what, three times in my life? I shouldn't have remembered the place in such detail. But there it was in my head, as clear as it was when we appeared here."

"Is that the only vision you have had?"

"When I'm awake," Draco replied. "But I've been having the strangest dreams. And when the son of the Dark Lord's right hand man says strange, you know they've got to be pretty bad."

"Can you tell me about them?"

"Not with any great detail. It's just… it's like standing in the middle of a bonfire and hearing sounds I've never heard before, seeing colors I never even knew existed."

He could see it again, the twisting flames rising in his vision, blocking out the world around him. He could hear the dry rustle, the snapping crackle, of the world being set ablaze. The heat of the fire wrapped around his mind on tendrils of power, beckoning him to lower his defenses, to succumb to the light and _hear_ the...

"And the sounds you hear when you are awake?" Severus asked, the sound of the older man's voice catching Draco and preventing him from sliding into a trace.

Blinking suddenly dry eyes furiously, Draco pulled himself together. "Sorry… The sounds I hear? It's like the dry, scraping rustle of burning leaves. And I swear, if I listen hard enough, I can almost hear some kind of voice, like the fire's trying to talk to me," he paused. "I think I'm losing my mind, Severus."

"I do not believe that."

"No, I'm serious. I don't know what's happening to me."

Severus turned his head to look at something, and when Draco followed his line of sight, he found himself looking into the eyes of Fawkes. "No, Draco," Severus said after a moment, as they stared at the phoenix and the phoenix stared back at them, "I do not believe that the fault lies with your mental equilibrium."

"You think that it's Fawkes," Draco whispered, glancing away from the phoenix to Severus.

"I have known Albus Dumbledore for over thirty years," Severus said, not looking away from the phoenix, "and in those years, I have witnessed the man say and do some very bizarre things. Once, during my younger days, I arrived at his office a bit too early, and I heard him in his office carrying on a conversation with someone who never responded back in any manner that I could hear. I have heard him speak with the portraits that line the walls and I have heard those within answer back. But this conversation had no second party, and it was far too structured to be the absent-minded verbalization of his thoughts. The only sentient creature that I saw, when I opened the door shortly afterward, was Fawkes."

"Are you saying that Fawkes is trying to talk to me?" Draco asked. "I'll admit that the thought crossed my mind, but I didn't give it any credibility."

"Do you know where magical creatures come from?" Severus inquired, turning away from Fawkes to face Draco.

Draco shrugged. "I never really gave it much thought. I just figured that they evolved like everything else did."

"What did a kneazle evolve from, do you think?"

"What? I don't know, some kind of cat, I guess." _Where in the hell are you going with this? What does this have to do with my going crazy? Unless this is an extension of my madness and I'm hallucinating this conversation._

"How about a thestral?"

"A horse?" Draco hazarded a guess, feeling more and more bewildered.

"Do you truly believe that a horse spontaneously began to exhibit magical abilities?"

"I don't know, Severus, it's not like I'm some kind of horse breeder who actually cares _where_ thestrals originated."

"Occasionally, a new species of creature will be born in areas saturated with magic. Some perfectly ordinary creature will walk into such an area, and when it walks out again, something within it is altered. Sometimes the alteration is drastically obvious; sometimes it is so subtle you would never suspect anything was different. But that creature will carry the alteration and spread it through the generations until an entirely new species has been created."

"Okay…" Draco said slowly, still lost in the conversational tangle.

"But there are just as many occurrences of spontaneous creations."

"You just said that a horse couldn't just _start_ exhibiting magical abilities out of nowhere!" Draco protested.

"That is correct. Something that is already a horse cannot, unless acted upon by an outside influence, become something else. But something that was never a form to begin with can manifest as something which vaguely resembles a horse."

"So…?"

"Sometimes the magic itself takes a form, becomes a living thing. Some of the creatures that populate our world are not true, mortal animals, but rather they are living forms of magic. Perhaps these magical incarnations breed with ordinary creatures and then new species come into existence. But perhaps some of these creatures do not interbreed. Perhaps they remain purely magical creatures, untainted by mortality."

"So you're saying that Fawkes-"

"A phoenix is not a mortal creature. It is a creature of magic. It _is_ magic."

"Okay, now I _know_ we weren't taught that in school. And as much as I hate to say it, I doubt it was because of Hagrid being our professor."

Severus inclined his head. "Albus has always had a habit of requesting my presence for conversations about absolutely nothing. He would call me into his office and bombard me with tea and sweets for an hour while he talked about random inanities that never seemed to possess a point. The first time I experienced one of these demonstrations of how to waste time that could be better spent doing something productive was a memorable one to me, as I spent the entire time wondering what it was that I was about to be fired for doing. Albus droned on about what it meant to be a magical creature for an hour and then dismissed me back to my office with a cup of tea and a cookie. I discovered that there had never been a point to my being there, and much to my dismay, I never forgot the contents of that stupid lecture."

"Maybe that was the point," Draco murmured, the words escaping him before he realized that he was talking.

Severus arched an eyebrow curiously. "You believe that it was deliberate?"

"After all this, would you really put it past him? I mean, he knew about all of this. And really, it seems to me that the more apropos to nothing the man is, the more important the knowledge he's trying to convey."

"If I was meant to tell you that boring story, I have done so. So perhaps now I can stop wasting valuable mental resources on its remembrance and forget the damned thing."

A short period of considering silence descended on them, as Draco looked back and forth between Severus and Fawkes. "So you really think he's trying to talk to me?" he asked, after a moment.

"I would not be surprised, all things considered," Severus answered. "Out of curiosity, when you hear that sound, what do you do?"

"I try to block it out."

"Next time it happens, do not fight it. Let it in and perhaps you will hear it clearly for what it is," Severus paused, glancing out a nearby window before looking back at Draco. "I have found that, sometimes, the only way to truly understand something is to stop fighting against it and let it happen for what it is. Once you understand, the fear disappears."

"You surprise me sometimes, Severus. You really do."

A small smile flickered across Severus' lips. "You would be more surprised if I told you that it was Harry who taught me that."

Draco's jaw dropped. "Potter? Potter taught you _that_? _Potter_?"

"Amazing, is it not?"

For a brief instant there was a flash of something in Severus' eyes, some spark of regret, as if he hadn't exactly taken the lesson to heart. And suddenly, Draco knew why.

"You never told him, did you?" he asked softly, wondering too late if he had gone too far.

"No," Severus answered quietly, glancing away. "I did not."

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid." The admission, more than the fact that Severus had answered the question, rendered Draco speechless. Severus glanced back at him and gave him a considering stare. "In the entirety of my life," he continued after a moment's pause, "I have only spoken those words to one human. Just one, and that was your father. I fear them, Draco, because I have never experienced a greater power to destroy than those three words."

"But like all things, they possess an antithesis," Draco replied, choosing his words with exquisite care, knowing that the ice he was walking on was almost insubstantial. _Break this fragile trust between us and I will lose it forever. _"They can heal just as well as they can destroy."

For a moment Draco thought he had shattered it, but then Severus' lips quirked in an ironic, self-mocking smile. "Do you truly believe that?"

"Yes."

"Why? Do you know this from experience?"

"Of course not," Draco answered, smiling sardonically. "Those are words that I have never heard directed toward me. I'm astonished that you actually thought they might have been, knowing as much as you do about my family." The twisted smile slipped, a more genuine one taking its place. "But I can't really say that I mourn the lack of it. Not having experienced it has allowed me the opportunity to dream. To imagine that such simple words could actually have the ability to heal all of the broken places that nothing else ever could, it almost makes up for never having heard them spoken to me. Because I know that nothing can really heal those places. At least, nothing I've ever encountered. And the belief that something can, the hope that such a belief engenders, well…" Draco shrugged. "Sometimes, in the absence of the reality, the fantasy is good enough."

The brittle ice in Severus' eyes cracked, allowing Draco to get a glimpse of some kind of turmoil going on beneath the surface. The mocking smile had disappeared. "Draco…"

"If I upset you, I'm sorry," Draco hastened to apologize, not liking the rawness of Severus' expression.

"I… No, you did not upset me," Severus responded. "But-"

"Just tell him," Draco interrupted, knowing that the opportunity to say these things would never come again. "When we get this fixed, tell him. I know he blurted it out to you one night during an argument, and maybe the earth didn't move and all of that romantic nonsense. And maybe after the damage my father caused, hearing it a million times won't heal you. But maybe telling Potter will help in some small way. Maybe after you've said it enough, you'll see that he won't betray you, and you won't have to be afraid anymore.

"And before you say anything, I read the letter too. Dumbledore believes that everything will work out. He sent us back here for a reason, and while I don't completely trust him or much care for him, I don't think he'd do all of this – sacrifice the world and the person he tried so desperately to protect all these years – on a whim. He believes we'll set this world right. And he believes you'll be there in the end, after everything is done."

Silence settled over them again. This time it was Severus who broke it.

"Sometimes, Draco, _you _surprise _me_."

"I'll probably surprise you again, Severus," Draco said lightly. "I'd get used to it, if I were you." _I don't know what will happen to us, if we'll retain any of our memories or if all of this will seem like nothing more than a bad dream that can't be recalled. If we remembered, maybe you wouldn't be surprised after all. But somehow, I doubt that the memories will remain. _

"Perhaps-"

"Severus-"

They both stopped and stared at each other.

"You aren't about to start fighting again, are you?"

Draco flinched, startled by sudden intrusion of Hermione's voice when he had completely forgotten about her. But either Severus had heard her or was refusing to react, because he simply turned and said blandly, "If it is not too much of a disappointment, I must admit that I was planning on leaving the fighting to you and Mister Malfoy."

"Thanks Severus," Hermione remarked dryly. "What a thoughtful thing to do."

"Yes, I rather thought it was."

"I have an opinion too, you know," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Well yes, but-" Hermione began, only to be cut off by a loud bang from Dumbledore's office.

"Albus!" A very angry, very _familiar_ voice yelled. "I want a word!"

The three of them stared at each other in astonishment.

"Severus, is that you?" Hermione whispered.

"Obviously," Severus hissed back.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked quietly.

Severus shook his head. "How the bloody hell should I know?"

"It _is _you! If you don't know, who the hell else does?" Draco retorted.

"The door!" Hermione pointed to the door that led from the Headmaster's quarters to his office. "Did we lock the door?"

They exchanged a blank stare.

"Oh shit," Draco exclaimed, making a lunge for the door.

In his haste to reach the door, Draco misjudged the distance between him and one of the tables, banging his shin into the table leg and causing the whole thing to wobble. One of the mugs, placed precariously near the edge of the table by someone –Draco had the uncomfortable suspicion was himself – dropped over the side and hit the carpet with a thud. Wincing, Draco scooped up the mug and put it back on the table with a little more force than necessary, as he resumed his run to the door. He was so close that he didn't even bother to worry about it.

His fingers were inches from the knob when a sharp rap on the door made him freeze in panic.

"Albus! I know that you are in there!"

_Oh shit! Oh, bloody fucking hell!_ Draco looked back at Severus and Hermione. _Come up with a plan here, people, cause we're going to be screwed in a minute!_

"_Get the door,_" Hermione mouthed, pointing emphatically at the door.

Gritting his teeth, _knowing_ that they were about to be discovered, Draco flicked the lock on the door.

"May I help you, Severus?"

_It's Dumbledore. Thank the gods, it's Dumbledore! He knows we're here; he'll keep Severus away!_ As quickly and as quietly as he could, Draco slunk back to Hermione and Severus.

"Haunting the hallways in your nightclothes, Albus?" he clearly heard the other Severus sneer.

"Not at all." Dumbledore sounded entirely too cheerful about the whole thing for Draco's taste. "I was about to settle in for the evening, but luckily for you, I recalled that I had yet one more piece of work to finish up before getting to sleep."

"Have you taken up sleeping in the hallways, then?"

"I have found that I enjoy occasionally relocating to different quarters. The change of scenery does wonders for my dreams."

_Does he really think _anyone_ would fall for that stupid excuse? Not even Crabbe would believe that! _Draco glanced at Severus, who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Hermione looked torn between horror and trying not to laugh.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Is there anything you can do for me? I do not know, Albus, is there? Is there anything at all you can possibly do for me?"

"Come, sit down. Why don't we talk?"

"Yes. Let us _talk._ Which topic would you care to address first? I have at least a dozen, in case you find yourself at a loss."

"Whatever you'd care to start with will be fine. Would you care for a chocolate?"

Draco winced in sympathy. Severus on a good day was volatile and completely uncontrollable. But right now he sounded as if he were about to explode. _And Dumbledore just offered him a chocolate? The man's insane! _

"I would _care _to know what you have in your quarters, as you quite obviously were not occupying them."

"That's just Fawkes."

"Albus…"

"Quite right! The very same. Good evening, Fawkes!"

"Okay, now we're just being stupid," Hermione muttered, withdrawing her wand and casting a silencing spell on the room. "There, now we can talk without being overheard by anyone outside the room. And you can knock over everything else, Draco."

"Hey, I didn't try to run into the damn thing!"

"I knew it," Severus was muttering, looking oddly pleased with himself. "I _knew_ Albus was up to something. I _knew_ there was something strange in this room and if I had opened the door I would finally know what the hell was going on."

"Do you?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Severus blinked, looking moderately startled.

"Do you know what's going on?" she repeated. "Because I sure don't. And Malfoy's lucky if he can tie his shoes, half the time."

"I resent that," Draco snapped, smirking at her. "Why in the hell would I go through the bother of tying my shoes when I could just wave my wand at them? Seriously woman, how motivated do you think I am?"

And was it Draco's imagination or did Severus look just a bit sheepish as he said, "I may not know how to fix all of this yet, but I do know when we are."

"When?"

"Do you remember when Albus announced the Halloween party, the night of the debacle he called a Quidditch game?"

Draco nodded along with Hermione.

"That is when we are. After dinner, I came up here, hoping to get answers out of him. However, all I ended up with were more questions."

Draco could see the path stretching out before him once again. Never deviating, never changing. _We may have more information, but we're still retracing the steps. We're not doing anything to _change_ it. _But they would. He didn't know how, but he knew that they would. And on the horizon, the flickering flames beckoned him.

_The Day of Burning draws near. _


	7. Chapter 7: Standing Witness

Chapter 7: Standing Witness

_It's been nearly a week_, Draco thought in irritation as he skulked through the hallways under the cover of the Invisibility cloak. _Six days of spying and researching and still nothing. No sign of what triggers the discovery of our world. We're running out of time._

For all of its paradoxical complications, it had seemed so much easier in theory. Go back in time. Prevent whatever happened that revealed the wizarding world to the Muggles. Bring Harry back from the dead. Erase forever the horror of the destruction of their world and cease to exist in their present incarnation when the Time Turner was turned that final time.

Only it wasn't happening like that. Oh, they had managed to find a Time Turner. And they had used it to go back in time. But they were no closer now to figuring out what had exposed them than they had been a year ago. And though Severus now held the means to their salvation in his hands, they were running out of time.

Every morning since their arrival in 2003, Hermione snuck into her quarters to filch her past self's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and brought it back to Albus' quarters so that she could scour each article for any mention of unusual goings-on. But there were never any signs of the disaster that was to come. And no matter how many hours she spent pouring over books in the library at night, she could never find any information about time travel that was of any use to them in figuring out how to change the future.

But still they crept through the castle in shifts, day in and day out, eavesdropping on the conversations of those around them, hoping to overhear a phrase, a single word, that hinted at someone noticing signs of unrest. Anything that would point them in the direction that they needed to go. They saw nothing. They heard nothing. But they refused to give up.

_Dumbledore knows that we're here. He's been guiding us, however subtly, toward something. _He_ knows what we need, even if we don't. And somehow, I don't think he'll let us fail._ It was a strange thing to find himself actually trusting the old wizard. How many times in his life had he heard his father curse Dumbledore's name as a meddler and a Muggle sympathizer? How many times had he viewed the man with the same suspicion that he viewed Voldemort? And now here he was, trusting in the man whose actions – or inaction – had resulted in the worst moment of Draco's life.

But if Dumbledore was wrong and they failed, if they couldn't save Harry… _I'll take that Time Turner and hunt you down, old man. I don't care if you _are_ the most powerful wizard in the world. By the time I'm through with you, you'll beg me to let you die. But I won't. Not until I've paid you back for every moment of pain you've made them suffer. And when I'm done with you, I'll destroy the Muggle world and everyone within it. _

The angry, vengeful thoughts brought a feral smile to Draco's lips. _For once in your life, you'd be proud of me, Father. That is, if you were still alive. And until you found out _why _I was so determined to kill them all. Somehow, I can't help but think you'd disown me after that particular little revelation. _It was all rather amusing, in a dark, twisted sort of way.

_Just like me_, Draco thought wryly, turning a corner and almost running into a tall, scowling pirate. Stifling a curse, Draco clutched the cloak to his throat and quickly pressed himself back against the wall out of the man's way. The pirate hurried past, totally unaware of the collision he had narrowly escaped being involved in, leaving Draco to stare after him in shock.

_What the hell is a pirate doing in the school? _Draco shuffled through his memories, trying to understand what was going on. Ghosts, he remembered. Dragons, he remembered. He even remembered the werewolf and the centaur. But he couldn't remember the pirate, especially such a dour, miserable looking pirate.

_Kind of reminds me of Severus_… Draco blinked, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot as his temporally muddled brain caught up with itself. He had forgotten about the Halloween party._ I guess a pirate belonged here, after all._

At the time, the party had seemed like nothing more than a night of fun and hilarity. But now, looking back on it with eyes that had seen the future, Draco couldn't help but feel as if the memories of that happier time had been corrupted. _We were all so innocent then, _his lips quirked in a sad, humorless smile. _After all that we had been through in our lives, I don't think any of us would have considered ourselves innocent. But we were, in ways we never understood until it was too late._

The memories welled up within him. All that he had lost, all that he had not known that he had until it was no longer there, all of the voices that had been silenced, all of the moments that hovered just beyond his grasp; it all descended on him, surrounded him, pressed in on him until he felt as if he could no longer breathe. The claustrophobia wrapped itself around him then, making it seem as if the very walls of the castle were closing in around him, as if the heavy stone above him was falling and burying him beneath its weight. He knew that it was not happening like that, he knew that it was all in his head, but he picked up his pace, fighting the urge to claw futilely at his throat until he had escaped from the interior of the castle and the only ceiling above him was a black velvet night sprinkled with stars.

Leaning against the castle wall, Draco pulled the cloak away from his head and inhaled as much of the cold October air as his lungs could hold. After a few frantic breaths, the feeling of suffocation subsided and Draco slumped deeper into a slouch against the wall. Sometimes, it was just so hard to keep going, to maintain faith in a dead man's words. As much as he liked for people to think that he was, Dumbledore wasn't infallible. And if ever there was a chance for failure, this was it.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep, to have one night without the nightmares. He wanted to have a moment's peace, without hearing the voices of the dead. He wanted a lot of things, and his life thus far had been a testament to living without all of it. The likelihood of that changing any time soon, if ever, seemed slim to nil.

_Sometimes, Father, I wish you were still alive, if only so that I could kill you myself for forcing this world upon me. You never loved my mother. You never loved me. Why in the nine hells did you feel the need to have a child to begin with? Everyone would have been better off if you hadn't bothered. _

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, sifting through the memories and bitter, melancholy thoughts. But after a time Draco became aware of eyes, watching him from the shadows.

"I know you're there," he called out quietly. "You might as well come out and have done with it."

The shadows shifted, and when he felt the brush of fire across his mind, Draco knew that it was Fawkes who watched him.

_"I have found that, sometimes, the only way to truly understand something is to stop fighting against it and let it happen for what it is."_

_All right, Severus. We'll do it your way_, Draco thought, forcing himself to relax. After a moment, when he was fairly certain he wouldn't instinctively try to expel the presence from his mind, Draco spoke again. "If there's something you'd like to tell me, Fawkes, I'm listening."

The fire burned brighter, the crackling hiss of the flames grew louder, and suddenly he could understand what it was trying to tell him. It wasn't a voice, as Draco knew voices, and it was nothing like the telepathy spells that could be cast to better communicate over distances. It couldn't even be classified as a series of words. But it was Fawkes, just the same, communicating with him on a level deeper than anything he had ever experienced.

_'You trouble yourself unduly.'_

"I wouldn't say that," Draco replied softly.

_'You are searching for answers that you already possess.'_

"What are you talking about?"

_'You know what happened to the wizarding world. You simply have to remember that you know this.'_

"What?" Draco stared in disbelief at the shadow he knew to be the phoenix.

_'You have been searching for the cause of its destruction, but you already know how it was betrayed. You know _who_ betrayed it.'_

"How do you-"

_'I can see it. It stands out so clearly in your mind. You are just too close to see it for what it is. Search your memories, Draco. Search them well and you will see what it is that you do not remember.'_

"If you know, tell me!"

_'I cannot. There are rules that bind even me.'_

Draco felt his hands clench into fists at his sides. "If you came out here just to taunt me…"

_'I am not human, Draco Malfoy. I do not possess the petty jealousy that drives mankind to wound others for the sake of pride.' _

"Then what do you want?"

_'To ease your burden. To reassure you that what you are doing is not an impossible task.' _

"How do you know that?"

_'The human mind structures reality into a format that can be understood and accepted. Just as your mind fetters your perception, it also obscures your memories. Mine is not a human mind. I can see what is, without distortion. And while your recollection of your memories is always limited, I see them in their entirety.'_

"I think you've been around Dumbledore too long, Fawkes," Draco muttered, unclenching his fists and relaxing his tense muscles. "You speak the same damned riddles as he did."

_'Have you never considered the possibility that he learned that unique skill from me?'_

"Just don't rub off on me then, and I think we'll get along fine."

_'You possess all of the information that you need, young Malfoy. You already know what happened to the wizarding world. You know how to change the future, and within you lays the ability to save Severus. A little faith in yourself would also not be remiss.'_

"Neither would being specific," Draco pointed out.

_'Some things must be experienced to be learned and understood, Draco. You know this. Much rides on this task that has been set for the three of you. Albus would not endanger its success by divulging too much detailed information. And neither will I. For your actions to be effective, what you do must come from your heart, not from my direction. Do you understand?'_

He did. He always _understood_. Understanding was the easy part. It was just that rarely did Draco ever _like_ what it was that he was being asked to understand. "Don't you already know the answer to that question?"

_'Yes. And now, so do you.'_

"How long are you planning on being in here, Fawkes?" Draco tapped the side of his head. "Because all of this omnipotence is really going to get on my nerves."

_'Do you truly wish to know the answer to that?'_

Draco rolled his eyes. "Are there any other stupid questions you'd like to ask?"

_'For the rest of your life.'_

He sighed. "Why does that not surprise me?" _This is just my rotten luck. Of all the things I never needed, some nosy, irritating, all-knowing phoenix taking up residence in my head is right up there with the Dark Mark and being married to Millicent Bulstrode._

_'I assure you, I shall be a far more invaluable companion than Miss Bulstrode could have ever conceivably been.'_

"Could you at least _pretend_ that you're not listening in on everything I think?"

_'How long are you going to fight the inevitable?'_

Draco shrugged. "Until I get tired of it and just give up. Fighting the inevitable is what being a Malfoy is all about. I mean, look at how long I held out against Potter. Twelve years is pretty good, if I do say so myself."

_'Odd… I thought being a Malfoy was all about something else.'_

Draco glowered at the phoenix. "Shut up, you stupid bird."

The fire crackled and snapped as the flames flickered. It took a moment before Draco realized that Fawkes was laughing. It took another one before Draco realized something else, something infinitely more horrifying: as alien a creature as he was, Fawkes was just like him. And from what Fawkes had said, he was stuck with the phoenix, for the rest of his life.

_'Is it not a popular phrase among humans that one must grow comfortable with oneself before one can be comfortable with others?'_

"If you're going to talk like some kind of self-help book for the rest of my life, you might as well shut the hell up now."

_'Draco-'_

"What?" The amusement that had tinged the flames was gone.

_'Come with me. There is something that you should see.'_

Raising an eyebrow, Draco pulled the cloak back over his head and followed after the shadow that was Fawkes as the phoenix took wing. "Hey, where?"

_'Form the words within your mind. I shall hear you. And others shall not.'_

_Okay…where…are…we…going?_ This was far more difficult than Draco thought it would be.

_'If you think that slowly all the time, it is rather amazing that you ever managed to graduate from Hogwarts, much less get this far in life. Think; do not attempt to silently verbalize.'_

_ You sure are a pain in the ass_, Draco thought irritably, instinctively.

_'Exactly like that. And in answer to your question, look ahead there.'_

Draco peered through the darkness in the direction that he could feel Fawkes looking, and saw two shapes sitting on the steps to the entrance of the castle. His momentary confusion passed as he got close enough to hear their conversation.

"You're going to miss all that spiking of the punch if you're out there," one of the shapes said, the voice immediately recognizable to Draco as Harry.

"I will be sure to go back inside before they drink it all," the other answered in a voice as familiar to Draco as Harry's was.

_What am I doing here?_ Draco thought, as he stopped at a distance far enough away from them as so to not be detected, yet close enough to be able to see and hear them without difficulty.

_'Just be here and bear witness to their lives,' _Fawkes answered, settling down on a branch of a nearby tree.

_Bear witness to their lives…_ Draco felt his lips twist in an approximation of a smile. _I've been bearing witness to their lives for nearly all of my own. Is that what my life has been for? To be the one who watches so that the memories of their lives continue, even if they themselves do not?_

_ "Everyone can't have a happy ending, Severus. If they did, it wouldn't be special. It wouldn't be anything but an ending. It's only by knowing what we lack that we know what we have."_ His own words came back to him then, as if in answer. _"There's always something that must be done, and sometimes, all we can truly do is that which lies before us."_

_What are our lives but the memories of who we are and what we have done? Our past, our history, our future, it has all been founded on the memories of those who have gone before us. The wizarding world will remember the name Harry Potter long after his body has turned to dust. His name will live on, but who he was will die with him, unless there are those who remember him to the world. All this time, could it really have been as simple as that?_

"What is it?"

The sharp tone of Harry's voice cut into Draco's thoughts, bringing him out of his reverie and focusing his attention on the conversation taking place in front of him.

"There are times when I feel as if I am being manipulated by Draco Malfoy," Severus responded, causing Draco's eyebrows to rise in surprise.

"Is that it?" Harry asked. "He manipulates me all the time."

Draco fought down the temptation to snort in amusement. _It's your own fault you're so easy to manipulate._ When Severus responded with an amused, "Not a difficult feat, that," it was all Draco could do not to laugh out loud.

"Now now, be nice," Harry chided him. "But seriously, are you worried about his motives again?"

Draco heard a faint rattle as the shadow that was Severus shifted. "No. Having had the misfortune to spend so much time in his obnoxious presence, I find it hard to believe that he could be plotting anything more than being an even greater nuisance than he has already proven to be. I just do not appreciate the meddling, however benevolent it is."

_But yet you continue to let me get away with it. What does that say about you, huh?_

"Sometimes I wonder who he really is. You know, beneath all that goofy nonsense of his," Harry added.

"Perhaps he does not wish us to know."

_Who I really am? _Draco blinked, surprised by Harry's unusual perceptiveness. Sometimes, it was so easy to get caught up in the mythos of the Boy Who Lived being a total idiot who wandered off into danger without a care for himself that Draco tended to forget that Harry _wasn't_ an idiot. Sure, he might be a little stunted in the social skills, what with having lived in a closet for most of his childhood, but he wasn't stupid. And if Draco was being fair, he could easily admit that trouble tended to be drawn to Harry more than Harry was drawn to it.

_You don't really want to know who I am, Harry. And I will never tell you. There are some things that you would not be happy to learn. I'll wear whatever masks I must, but I'll never let you see me and jeopardize your happiness._

The conversation had continued through Draco's lapse in attention, and when he finally focused on it once again, he heard Harry say, "I wonder what they'll call us. Snape, Potter, and Malfoy doesn't seem to roll of the tongue quite as easily as Potter, Granger, and Weasley did."

"Why must we have a name?"

"What are people going to call us, when we get into trouble?"

_Funny, how we cling to the memories of the past. We spend so much time trying to mold the present into the past that we ignore it for what it is. How much did you complain, when we were students, about the way in which everyone viewed you and your friends? How much did you wish everyone would just mind their own damn business and stop expecting the three of you to get into trouble? How many times did you find yourself wishing for things to be different? And now here you are, wishing that everything could be how it was. Sometimes it's only the good that remains, or only the bad, but we never seem to remember the past for what it truly was._

"I've got it!" Harry burst out, startling Draco.

"What?"

"We can be the Snotloys! You know, Sna-ott-loy."

"The world will end, before I allow myself to be called Snotloy."

As maudlin as his thoughts were becoming, Draco had to bite down on the corners of his lips to keep from laughing out loud. _The Snotloys_, he thought, an image forming in his mind of some quaint house out in the country with a fence and a hand-painted sign hung by the door proudly proclaiming it to be the home of the Snotloys. _Yes, I can imagine the look on your godfather's face if he saw that. Snotloys indeed. _

After a time, Draco heard Severus' voice asking seriously, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel that I should tell you that…" Severus' voice trailed off, then began again after a moment's pause. "That is to say, you ought to know that…" Draco's eyes widened. _He can't be…_

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Harry's voice became panicky.

"No, I am fine. I… The other night, Albus and I…" Draco raised an eyebrow as Severus cut himself off and tried again. "I had a conversation with Albus the other night. And he told me… That is, I think he was trying to give me advice. I am not entirely sure, I was too angry to truly listen to him." _I'll be damned. He really is trying to tell him. And he's babbling. Severus Snape is babbling. I never thought I'd see the day._

Severus stopped talking, and after a moment's silence Harry asked, "Severus? What is it?"

_Tell him! Stop stalling and just tell him!_ From a recent conversation with the man, Draco knew that Severus hadn't been successful in his attempt to confess exactly how he felt about Harry. Yet he still couldn't help but wish that Severus would stop stammering around and just tell him.

"I… I wanted you to know that I…" When Severus paused again, Draco wanted to scream. It was the knowing of what was to come that made it so hard to watch. And that Severus had _tried_ to tell him just made it that much worse. To have not said anything was one thing. But to have tried and found that the words tangled in his throat… _Ah gods, Severus. How much more will you be forced to endure? If I could shoulder the past for you or knew how to heal the wounds he gave you…_ Severus muttered something that Draco couldn't distinguish, and then the shadows blurred into one.

_"I say, were you two having a bit of a go in the bushes?"_ Draco felt his lips twitch as the memory came back to him. _Perhaps I wasn't so far off the mark after all. _He turned his head toward Fawkes, eyes searching out the smudge of darkness that was the phoenix. _'Shall we go?'_

_'Do you not think that we should stay?'_

Draco scowled._ 'Potter thought I was a slut. You think I'm a pervert. What the hell is wrong with you people?' _

_'I did not mean for you to play the voyeur, Draco. I meant only for you to watch them.'_

Draco would have laughed, if that wouldn't have alerted Harry and Severus to his presence. '_I have, Fawkes. I've watched them nearly all of my life. Maybe the reasons have changed, over the years, but I've always been here, and I always will be. It was too late the moment I met them, I understand that now. Just as I understand that there are those who stand inside and those who must not. I would rather that it is me, out here in the shadows, than them. There has been enough tragedy in their lives.' _

_ 'What of your life?'_

_ ' I'm a Malfoy, Fawkes. That's all I know how to be.' _

Fawkes fell silent, and Draco ran the words back through his mind. _I've spent my entire life fighting against who and what I was. As a child, I wanted to be worthy of my father and the family name. As an adult, I wanted to be seen as something other than a mirror of a madman. But all that time, I never looked beneath the surface and really understood what being a Malfoy meant. It had nothing at all to do with power and prestige._

_ 'Would you-'_

Fawkes didn't need to finish the question before Draco was shaking his head. _'No.'_

_ 'Why?'_

_ 'I thought you could read my mind. Why bother asking me any of this?'_

_ 'I am not indiscriminately sifting through your thoughts. I do understand the definition of privacy.'_

Draco did not respond immediately, but gave the question due consideration. _'It would be easier if it weren't me, I'll admit that. But if it wasn't me, who would it be? Harry? Severus? I wouldn't accept that. And how far would someone else be willing to go? Would that one do whatever would be necessary to protect them? Would _that_ one protect them? I would not trust their safety to someone else. No, Fawkes, I would change nothing. Even if I could.' _

"We cannot do this here," Severus' voice broke into Draco's silent communication, drawing his attention away from Fawkes and back toward the two of them.

"What are you suggesting?" Draco heard Harry ask.

"That we stop," Severus said, sounding slightly exasperated.

"Severus…" _That_ tone Draco recognized instantly. It was the wheedling tone of the Boy Who Lived, poised to dive headlong and oblivious into danger and determined that his companions not miss out on the fun.

Apparently, Severus knew it for what it was as well. "It would not do to disappear from the party indefinitely."

"What par-… Oh." Draco rolled his eyes. Yes indeed, that was the Harry Potter everyone knew and loved. "I guess we ought to go back in before someone sends out a search party," the boy wonder paused. "But after the party!"

"No," Severus interrupted sharply.

"Oh no," Harry snapped, sounding genuinely angry, wheedling tone gone. "For one brief moment I could swear that you actually let go of the past long enough to trust me and damn it, Severus, I am not going to let you run away from me again."

Draco found himself listening with interest. Harry standing up for himself was always entertaining, especially in this instance, because Draco remembered quite clearly what Harry had said had happened. _It's just a shame that I can't see Severus' face when the idiot blurts it out._

"You-" Severus began, only to have Harry keep talking over him.

"I can understand your hesitation and your fears. After everything you've been through, I'd be just as terrified as you are. But goddamn it, Severus, I am _not_ Lucius Malfoy!" _No Severus, he's really not. He's not as tall or pale, for starters. And he's decidedly lacking in the insanity department as well. _

Harry continued on. _"_And I have been trying, since this whole thing began, to prove that to you. I am _not_ going to turn my back on you, no matter what happens. And I think you know that. No, I know you know that! You may have buried it under doubts and fears and just plain bloody-mindedness, but you know it. By this point, you know damn well that I love you, and under no circumstances am I going to stand around and let you run off to hide when I don't think that's what you really want to do in the first place! So I-… What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Draco suppressed the urge to sigh. Judging from the baffled confusion in Harry's voice, the look on Severus' face was _really_ something to see.

"Are you going to run away from me again?" Harry asked belligerently, jumping to the wrong conclusion.

"No?" If he didn't know that it was Severus sitting there, Draco never would have guessed it was him from the dazed sound of his voice.

"Oh hell. Severus-" It sounded as if Harry's words had finally caught up to his brain.

"No, now you will listen to me. You are not Lucius. And it is not fair of me to treat you as if you are. However, I…" Severus trailed off and Draco could only imagine what sort of crestfallen expression Harry had plastered all over his face. "Oh, bloody hell, Harry. I did not kiss you like that so that I could throw you aside the moment you yelled at me and called me a git."

"I didn't call you a git."

"Not in so many words. And listen up, Harry, because I am not going to admit to being a git twice. You are right. And I apologize."

"I'm sorry too. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I am not uncomfortable. And considering your hand seems to have taken up residence under my shirt…"

Draco put his hand over his mouth, stifling a snicker. Watching Severus and Harry interacting was always rather amusing. But Severus and Harry interacting without an audience was even more so.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

They got to their feet and turned toward the castle.

"I wonder what Remus would say if he knew you were snogging a werewolf," Draco heard Harry murmur.

"Something similar to Black finding out that I murdered his godson, I suspect," came Severus' blithe retort.

"Touché."

Draco watched them move to the door and go inside. A moment later, he heard Harry's muffled shout of "Goddamn it, Draco! What the hell do you think you're doing?" before the door shut behind them.

Alone now, without the possibility of being overheard, Draco allowed himself to laugh. He laughed at the banter Severus and Harry had engaged in, he laughed at himself for his mock attack against them, and he laughed at the memories of a time that seemed as if it had happened to another person, for all that it had played out right in front of him. When the laughter subsided, Draco turned back to Fawkes, feeling far more hollow and tired than he had felt in a long time.

_'Do me a favor tonight, Fawkes, would you please?'_

Flames brushed ever so gently across his mind. _'I will keep the dreams away.'_

Adjusting the cloak, Draco started walking toward one of the courtyards far enough away from the Great Hall so as to avoid any partygoers wandering through the hallways. Maybe having Fawkes inside his mind wasn't such a bad thing, after all.

Scene Shift

"Hermione?" Draco said quietly, looking into the sitting room. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

It was galling that it had come to this. That all of the cunning and intelligence Draco prided himself in possessing had left him bereft, unable to figure out how to go about implementing his admittedly sketchy plan to save Severus. _I can come up with countless schemes to irritate the hell out of everyone around me. But when I need it the most, my Slytherin cunning totally disappears. _

As promised, Fawkes had ensured that his sleep was dreamless, and when he had awoken, Draco discovered that Severus had taken the cloak to patrol the castle and Hermione had returned from an early visit to the library. Confined as they were to such a relatively small space, the opportunities to catch Hermione were few and far between. It was now or never, and Draco sincerely wished that he was smart enough that it could be never.

"What it is?" Hermione asked, not looking up from the book she had smuggled out of the library.

"I'm serious, Hermione." It was easy to caper about like a fool – _that _was an act – but to swallow his pride and actually ask… _It isn't like I have a lot of choice here. I can't ask Severus and Fawkes won't give me anything but riddles. Buck up, Draco, and do it,_ he told himself irritably, forcing the words out of his mouth. "I need your help."

Her head shot up, the book suddenly lying forgotten in her lap as she started at him, wide-eyed.  
Draco scowled, leaning against the doorway and folding his arms across his chest as if by doing so he could ward off the admission of inadequacy. "Yes, yes. Proud, conceited pureblood asking for the mudblood's help. I'll just let you get on with the gawking so that when you've had your fill you can actually do something constructive." He may have lost his cunning, devious mind, but at least his ability to insult people was still intact and functioning. At this point, he'd take what he could get.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, completely ignoring his sarcasm.

_ Now how to tell her, without actually_ telling _her?_ "I've run into a bit of a problem, and for the life of me, I can't figure out what to do about it."

"You've got to give me more than that, Draco."

"If we manage to change the past, what will happen to us?" he asked, resisting the urge to fidget under her scrutinizing gaze. _I've spent nearly a quarter of a decade being unintimidated by you, and by all the gods, I'm not going to start now just because I need your help._ "We'll cease to exist, right? We'll get absorbed back into the timeline as some sort of abnormality and everything we are will be gone, replaced by those selves that did not go through the same things we did. Right?"

"Broadly, yes. But-"  
"If there was something I needed for my past self to do, how would I communicate that with him?" Draco hurried on before she could continue. "I can't leave something back in time, because I'd have to have come back here in the first place to leave it, and for that to happen, the past we don't want will have had to happen. Do you follow that?"  
Hermione nodded. "But it's forbidden to try and contact a previous self."

"Yes, I know. Everything's forbidden and look at what a wonderful job we've been doing of obeying the rules," Draco said, rolling his eyes and brushing his hair back from his face. "The rules got broken the day the Muggles discovered our world. Besides, you're missing the point here. I don't want to have a conversation with myself; I want to leave myself a message."  
"Why? If we succeed, it's not like you'll need to warn yourself of the impending disaster."

"No, that's not…" Draco shook his head. This wasn't going as smoothly as he had hoped. _Tell Hermione I have a problem. Listen to her tell me how to solve it. Yeah, like _that _was a realistic assumption._ "All right, look. I'll tell you everything. But I must ask that you keep everything I'm going to say to you in confidence. And before you say something snide, I'm not asking for my sake. I'm asking for Harry's."

Her eyes met his guilelessly. "I wasn't going to say anything snide, Draco."

Casting a glance over his shoulder at the door to Albus' office, Draco straightened up and entered the sitting room. _'Fawkes? You there?' _he asked as he crossed the room and took a seat next to Hermione.

_'Yes.'_

_ 'Could you warn me if Severus comes back in the near future?'_  
_'Yes.'_

"Draco?" Hermione prompted, looking at him curiously.

"I know how to save Severus, Hermione," he said, ignoring the question in her eyes and getting to the heart of the matter. "I just don't know how to make sure that I know what to do, when the time comes."

"Start at the beginning, Draco."

"The problem is that we don't know if Severus and Harry will resolve their argument before Fudge shows up with the dementors. Knowing how stubborn Severus is, and how self-effacing Harry can be, I rather doubt that they'll resolve it on their own in time," Draco sighed. "I was there in the room during Severus' trial. If things had been even slightly off, Severus would have been the recipient of the Dementor's Kiss instead of Harry, and he would have been lost because of it."  
"I'm not quite sure where you're going with this," Hermione admitted.

"At first I thought I'd go back in time and just take his place. But even with Polyjuice potion I can't, because if we alter time _I_ won't exist. So I won't be able to come back, take the potion, and interfere. As I am right now, I can't do anything to save him. But as I was before, I can."  
"Draco…"

"I've never been in the habit of making Polyjuice potions, so it isn't like I have vials of the stuff on hand in my quarters. And it's not like I'd happen to have brewed one that would turn me into Severus, much less drink it at exactly the right time and be in exactly the right place for Fudge to mistake me for Severus and take me in his stead. So I have to let myself know what to do. I have to tell myself to make the potion, when to take it, and where to be to intercept Fudge before he reaches Severus. But the problem still remains the same. How do I give myself a letter with the instructions to do so, if I was never here to write it in the first place?"

"You can't do that!" Hermione exclaimed.

"You didn't even think about it!" Draco shot back accusingly. "At least give it some consideration before you shoot it down like that."

"No," she shook her head. "I mean, what are you talking about? You're not impervious to the Dementor's Kiss any more than Severus is. We still don't even know why Harry survived it! You can't-"  
"That's sort of the point here, Hermione," Draco said dryly. "Severus isn't impervious to it. But if Fudge thinks that he has Severus, that will buy Harry and Severus enough time to work through their difficulties. Because you _know_ thinking Severus got arrested and then seeing him wandering about the castle oblivious will make Harry talk to him, regardless of however unobtrusive Harry's trying to be."  
Hermione was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. "You don't understand! You don't die from the Dementor's Kiss! Not right away. It takes your soul, Draco. And then it leaves you nothing more than a husk that can linger on for years."  
"The alternative is that it takes Severus', and I can't allow that to happen. Better it takes mine than his," Draco said, then shrugged and added negligently, "Besides, it isn't like I'm going to notice those long, husk years if my soul's gone and I'm not there."  
Hermione frowned, clearly not amused. "But-"  
_Now you're just being disagreeable on purpose. _"Imagine Harry's face without him, Hermione. Imagine his guilt and regret when he found out that Severus was gone and that the last thing he had said to the man had been words of anger. Could you really stand by and allow that to happen to him, Hermione?"

"There's got to be another way."

"If there is, I haven't thought of it," Draco replied. "And I've been thinking about it for quite some time now." _And it isn't like it _matters_ if it's me. Damn it, stop arguing with me and help me._

"It's your _life_, Draco."

"It's _their_ lives, Hermione. And I will not have gone through all of this just to watch them be torn apart again. I will _not_ stand there and watch him fall apart."  
Draco glared at her, daring her to object. And she herself seemed to be looking past his eyes and into his soul.

"You would really do that," she murmured quietly after a few minutes silence, her tone not quite a statement yet not really a question.

"What good is a life, Hermione, if you can't give it for those that matter?" Draco asked rhetorically.

She gave him an oddly regretful smile. "We never knew you at all, did we?"

Draco snorted. "No one knows me, Hermione. And back then, neither did I."  
"I'm sorry, Draco. I never-"

"Everyone always apologizes to me for that," Draco cut in with a mixture of aggravation and feigned confusion. "I don't know why, you all love him too, but I never hear you apologizing to each other for it.  
"Somehow, I don't think the rest of us are in the same situation as you."

"True," Draco conceded before smiling with self-pitying sarcasm. "I suppose it's a horrifyingly difficult trial to love one of them. To be the poor sot who loves them both… Yeah, I can see how I'd garner your pity. But Hermione, please, I _am_ a Malfoy and we're simply _far_ too dignified to desire your pity."  
"Draco."

Draco dropped the condescending tone. "I'm still the same person I always was, Hermione," he said soberly. "The same selfish, arrogant, cold-hearted bastard I've been since the moment I was born. I'm just human, with all of the same flaws and weaknesses as the rest of you lot have."

There was a glint of understanding in her eyes that was confirmed when she replied slyly, "But you've given me a weakness to exploit, Malfoy. That makes all the difference in the world."

He smirked, confident that she would know of his thanks at her way of handling it and wondering if he ought to be disturbed by that confidence. This was Hermione Granger, after all, right up there with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley as the banes of his existence. Of course, with the way things were going, all he'd need to do now would be to make nice with the Weasel – once he was back among the land of the living – and he'd find himself bane-less and without anyone with whom to bicker. "Ah, I understand," he muttered sagely. "I'm easier to get along with if you know which buttons to push, eh?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"It'll make our verbal sparring more of a challenge, I'll give you that," Draco continued in as needling a tone as he could conjure up. "It was so dull having such a simple-minded opponent."

"I'll help you," Hermione told him then, a bit more seriously than he liked.

"See, I knew dangling my demise in front of you would persuade you to help me."

"Was that what it was?" she asked, innocently.

"Eh, I'm sure the Harry bait helped too."

"I'm not doing this for Harry," she replied, all traces of amusement gone from her voice.

"No?" Draco asked, nonplussed.

"No," she confirmed. "I'm doing it for you."

"Huh?" _What the hell is this crazy woman on about now?_

"Harry would heal," Hermione said, holding Draco's eyes with her own. "I understand now what it was that Severus was talking about before. Harry would heal and eventually he would move on, to you. Severus knew that, and he knew that you'd be there to take his place. But you would never heal, would you, Draco?"

Draco felt the blood drain from his face and found that his throat was unable to give voice to the words he wanted to say.

"Harry grew to love Severus over that short time in America," she continued on relentlessly. "But you've had nearly all of your life. You wouldn't heal, and every time you looked into Harry's eyes, you'd know what it cost you."

There was only one thing he could say.

"Touché, Mudblood. Touché."


	8. Chapter 8: Answers

Chapter 8: Answers

"It didn't start in the Wizarding world!" Hermione's aggravated exclamation broke the silence of the room seconds before she threw down the paper in disgust.  
Severus glanced up from the temporal theory book he had been reading. "Why do you say that?"  
"Because I can't find _anything_ that even remotely points to disclosure," Hermione explained, shaking her head in frustration. "I've searched every current issue of all of our newspapers and magazines for the last month. I've searched back issues extending back to six months prior to the letter that Harry received from his friends, and I've found nothing. There were no wizarding attacks on Muggles, no wizarding accidents that had Muggle witnesses, and no Ministry officials were sent out to erase the memories of Muggles for any reason. There haven't been any strange or suspicious activities so much as _hinted_ at by the media."  
"The newspapers don't _have_ to report everything that happens," Draco pointed out, putting down his own book on time travel. Ostensibly, he was independently researching the issue on the off-chance that Severus might overlook some bit of information as irrelevant when, instead, it could be the key to succeeding in their task. In actuality, Draco was researching a mission of his own and was banking on Severus' preoccupation with rewriting history to prevent him from questioning Draco's seeming lack of faith in Severus' abilities. "It could very well be that whatever caused the attack on our world stemmed from something so inconsequential that the papers never even knew that it happened."  
"You're wrong," Hermione disagreed. "After everything Voldemort did, people became more observant and vigilant against the possibility of another person like him rising to power. The little things that may have escaped notice once were scrutinized and investigated. Whatever caused the Muggles to discover our existence, much less attack us, couldn't have been something too trivial for the papers to remark on. Besides, they'll publish just about anything."  
"You believe that it originated in the Muggle world," Severus remarked, his tone too flat for it to be a question, as he glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eyes.  
"I see no other possibility," Hermione shrugged helplessly. "But at the same time, lack of Wizarding records almost refutes that theory. If something happened in the Muggle world that affected ours, the Wizarding papers would have reported it."  
The three of them looked at each other.  
"Something happened," Draco said finally. "The Muggles didn't just decide to attack something they didn't know existed. They got suspicious. They started targeting wizards and witches."  
_These calls came just days after the President's address to the nation advising caution and vigilance in light of the rumors currently circulating as to the discovery of a terrorist faction that has infiltrated American soil._ The memory of an article, clipped from a newspaper, flashed through Draco's mind with crystalline clarity.  
"Hermione, the papers you read; where were they from?" Draco asked slowly, the first inkling of understanding creeping over him.  
She looked at him blankly. "From the library mostly, and some were issues that I've pilfered from my past self's quarters. Why?"  
"No, you misunderstand me. Where were they _from_? What country published them?" he clarified, feeling his pulse begin to race. _I'm right. I know it._  
"Ours. But what difference does that make? It doesn't matter what country we live in; the Wizarding world comprises the entire world. If something happened in another country, it would still get reported in our papers."  
"But what if _nothing_ happened? What if there were no magical accidents, no attacks on Muggles? What if a Muggle walked into the home of a wizard quite by accident and saw things not meant to be seen?"  
Hermione was shaking her head in disagreement. "There are charms that would prevent that sort of thing, Draco. Like the charms around Hogwarts, which make Muggles forget what they were doing there and turn away."  
"And those charms are infallible, are they?" Draco asked darkly.  
Hermione winced.  
"I see what you are implying, Draco," Severus murmured, looking thoughtful. "However, Hermione does have a valid point. If it were as simple as a Muggle merely walking into a wizard's home by accident, the discovery of our world would have taken place long ago."  
"Maybe it's not a Muggle walking into a wizard's home," Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Maybe it's a Muggle overhearing other Muggles talking about their wizard children. Maybe it's a child doing magic - on purpose of by accident - in front of Muggle children. My point is that it _doesn't_ have to be some great big event. It doesn't have to be a group of Death Eaters destroying a town. It doesn't need to be a dragon getting loose on a Muggle city. You don't have to experience something terrifying in order to be afraid of something you don't understand."   
"I still don't-" Hermione began, sounding unconvinced.  
"It started in America."  
Severus raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"   
"I remember the first letter Potter got from Kevin and Ben. There was an article along with it from a Muggle newspaper, detailing an arrest of suspected terrorists. The reason his friends sent it to him was that it didn't sound like the people were terrorists. I can't remember all of the details, but it said something about a new terrorist threat in the United States. They weren't talking about terrorists; they were talking about wizards and witches."  
"Do you have any idea what Harry did with the letter?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence. "If we had it, it might help us, give us a better idea of where specifically we should be looking, instead of something as broad as 'the United States.'"  
Draco stared at her, then glanced at Severus to see that the man was also looking at him expectantly. _What am I, Potter's babysitter?_ "How should I know?"  
"You were with him all the time," Hermione replied, as if it should be obvious.  
"So was Severus," Draco shot back, before turning to him. "Do you know what he did with the letter?"  
"Unlike you, I was unaware of the letter's existence."  
Draco scowled. "People usually get paid for stuff like this, you know that, right?"  
"What?" Hermione asked, baffled.  
"Babysitting," Draco expounded. "To take care of a child or children in the absence of a parent or guardian."  
"You've got a lot of time on your hands, haven't you?" Hermione asked pityingly. "Reading the dictionary can't have been much fun."  
"You tell me," Draco smirked at her. "Sounds like you've read through it a time or two yourself, to recognize a quote."  
"I do not get paid for it either," Severus interrupted, giving them both a quelling look.  
"Potter's a packrat," Draco said, abandoning the argument as if it had never happened. "He keeps more than he throws away. Since they're from his friends, the letters are probably still in the disaster area he calls his quarters."

"It shouldn't be too difficult to take them. We've got the Invisibility cloak, and we know when his classes are being held. All we have to do is wait until he's not there, break into his quarters, and steal the letters," Hermione told them. "We could do it today. The sooner we know what those articles say, the sooner we can figure this out!"

Draco knew that the desired response would be to whole-heartedly agree with Hermione's plan, put the Invisibility cloak on immediately, and head out. And yet, the thought of walking into Harry's quarters to see the various bits of his life scattered around his rooms – as Draco had seen so many times before when visiting – made an empty, hopeless pain well up within him. It hurt more than Draco cared to acknowledge, the notion of rifling through Harry's possessions, of touching books and clothes. Looking at Severus, Draco knew that he felt the same way.

It was there, in the tightness of Severus' lips. In the way in which his skin had paled as Hermione spoke the words. It was there in the way his fingers clutched the arm of his chair, as if to let go would be to lose control.

_I won't let you be hurt any more than you already have been. _

"Right," Draco said, rising to his feet as he settled the mask firmly in place. "If I go now, I can slip in as soon as he leaves, get the letters, and get out in plenty of time before he comes back."

He could feel Severus' eyes on him as he headed to the door, wrapping the cloak around his shoulders. His hand was on the doorknob when Severus stopped him.

"Wait. I will come with you."

"Severus…" Draco began, allowing his words to die in his throat as Severus came to stand beside him.

The tension in Severus' face had hardened his features into a mask of grim determination. "It will be better this way," he said quietly.

"I wanted…" _I wanted to shield you from this. I wanted to make it easier for you. I wanted to bear the pain for you. The gods know you've had enough._

Severus rested his hand on Draco's shoulder for such a fleeting instant that Draco almost thought he had imagined it. "I know," he said simply, lifting the cloak from Draco's shoulders and placing it on his own.

"Wait!" Hermione called out, as they turned toward the door.

"Oh for…" Draco turned to her impatiently. "Look, we can't all fit under the cloak. Hell, Severus and I aren't even going to fit right."

"If you had a brain, Draco Malfoy, you'd be dangerous," Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust, taking out her wand and pointing it at Draco.

"Hey!" Draco protested, as what felt like cold water poured over him. "What the hell was that for?"

"It's a Disillusionment charm," Hermione informed him as if he were a dim-witted child. "You _did_ take Charms class, didn't you?"

Draco just scowled at her, knowing as he did so that she would not be able to see him.

_'I will be your eyes.'_

_You can see us?_

The flames flickered Fawkes' equivalent of laughter. _'Magic cannot fool me, Draco. I _am_ magic.'_

"Ah… Right then," Draco mumbled aloud. "Well, we might as well get going."

He watched as Severus disappeared beneath the cloak, and then followed the Potions master through the doorway.

_Fawkes? I thought you coming along._

_'I can be invisible when I wish to be. Do not worry. I am with you.'_

- Scene Shift -

It was just as hard as Severus thought it was going to be. So much of the contents of the room - a robe thrown negligently over the back of a chair; a collection of books resting in a pile, some open, some closed; shoes without mates lying wherever Harry had kicked them off – spoke of someone about to come back. There was a sense of life in his quarters, and that made it so much harder to bear. Because he _was_ going to come back, at least for the next few weeks, and when he did, Severus wouldn't be there. Severus _couldn't_ be there.

It was with reverent hands that Severus opened drawers and lifted books. He felt like a thief, not because he was trying to steal the letters, but because with every object he touched, he was trying to feel Harry's essence. He was trying to gather it, to take it with him, to have something to remind him that Harry was not lost, not forever.

_One moment_, Severus thought sadly, as he carefully set down the book he was holding. _Ah gods, what I wouldn't give for just one moment. Just one, to not squander as I have all of the others._

"I found them," Draco's disembodied voice called from the adjoining room.

A moment later Severus felt the shifting of the magical currents in the room and, sensing where he stood, turned to face Draco. "You have them all?"

"As many as they've sent thus far."

"Are there more?" Severus asked, reforming the question he wanted to ask into something he found to be far more acceptable. _Do we have to come back here?_

From the tone of his voice, Severus knew was Draco shrugging as he spoke. "A few, before it became too dangerous to send owls out with messages. But they didn't contain any news articles. It was just Kevin and Ben telling him what was going on over there, asking what was happening here, and expressing their concern for our safety."

"_Our_ safety?" Yes, that sounded like Kevin and Ben.

"Apparently you made quite the impression on them."

Severus felt the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth as Draco's words invited back the memories of his time in America. But almost as soon as it began, Severus tamped down the smile and headed for the door. "Come. Let us return to Hermione. We need to examine those letters."

They had only been in Harry's quarters for twenty minutes, but to Severus, it felt like an eternity. It was a relief to step out into the corridor, even as a part of him wanted nothing more than to stay.

_You are stronger than this. And if you do not begin acting as such, you will destroy any chance you ever had of setting things right_, Severus told himself harshly. _And you do an incredible disservice to Draco by your weakness._

Although he made no mention of it, Severus had seen Draco don the mask of the imperturbable, obnoxious prat. He had noticed, every time Draco had hidden his own sorrow and pain behind a façade to keep Severus from sinking further into depression. Time and again, Draco had offered himself to spare Severus – and even Hermione – pain, never flinching, never complaining, never asking for anything in return.

_Forgive me. _

From whom he was begging forgiveness – there were so many faces that drifted through his mind's eye whenever the guilt assailed him – Severus did not know.

"Severus!" Draco's hiss broke his descent into melancholy and brought him up short.

"What is it?" he asked, moving closer to the place he could feel Draco occupying.

"Up ahead… I just saw myself follow you outside."

Briefly, Severus sorted through his memories, trying to remember what day it was and what occurred. "Too much has happened. I cannot remember," he confessed after a moment.

"Come on."

Severus could feel him walking toward the exit. "What is the purpose of spying on ourselves?" he asked as he caught up with Draco.

"I… I don't know," Draco answered him softly, his voice laden with confusion. "It… It's like, like a fire where there shouldn't be one. You can't smell the smoke or feel the heat, nothing _looks_ amiss, but deep down you know something's wrong."

"I cannot remember something _bad_ happening."

"No, I meant… you just know. Right? I just _know_ we're supposed to hear whatever it is that you and I are saying out there."

Draco's analogy was not lost on Severus. _What are you up to, Fawkes? What is it that you know? And why will you not share your knowledge with us?_

The coldness of the air hit them as they walked through the doorway into the courtyard beyond. It was snowing, the whispering hiss dampening out the sound of the voices of the two men standing near a railing.

As they moved closer to their younger selves, Severus noticed the trail of footprints they were leaving in their wake. Waving a hand, Severus cast a quick spell that obliterated the footprints as they were imprinted in the snow. Mindful of the potential evidence of their presence, Severus veered toward a column behind which they could hide, knowing as he did so that Draco, guided by Fawkes, would follow him.

"All the good intentions in the world won't save the Muggles if they kill a witch or a wizard, Severus. Optimism only lasts so long in the face of persecution and hatred," the other Draco was saying as they settled in behind the column.

_So that is when we are_, Severus thought, moving through his memories of the conversation, trying to discover why Fawkes thought it necessary for them to witness it.

"What would you do, Draco?" Severus heard himself ask.

_Once I thought to see your father looking at me from behind your eyes. How distant that seems. As if it occurred to someone else, another world away. _

Draco's reply came after a moment filled with the rasping voice of the snow. "I don't know if he was right or not, Severus. It's something I've been fighting with all of my life. There are times when I think he was, but there are just as many when I couldn't disagree with him more."

_You are not alone in that._ The thought was echoed by the man standing a few yards away.

"What would it have been like?"

Beside him, Severus felt Draco shift. Now, perhaps even more so than before, the question's poignancy made his heart ache. And he knew, without having to ask, that it was the same for Draco. _I am so sorry, Draco. _

Lifting his hand, he was about to lay it on Draco's arm when the words his other self was speaking made him freeze.

"When I was a child, I used to believe that there were millions of realities existing in contiguity with this one, each one stemming from all of the choices that, when they presented themselves, we did not take. It was my solace, when I could not overcome my despair and frustration. I told myself that while I may be experiencing _this_ life, somewhere there was another me who had all of the experiences that I longed for so deeply. If there is a reality for every choice we are given, then it stands to reason that we must feel and experience everything. So somewhere, in a world far better than this one, there was a Severus Snape who did not know aching loneliness and heartbreaking pain. Instead he knew companionship and joy, he knew love and hope. And so long as he was there, then I could gladly bear my life, that he might have his."

_Name of the gods… It cannot be…_

"I cannot tell you how it might have been," his past self was saying. "I cannot see beyond this world. But I too have found myself wondering what would have happened, had things not been as they were."

"What do you see for this world, Severus?" Draco's voice sounded as if it was coming from miles away.

"I see it end."

_All this time… It cannot be that simple. _

"Draco," Severus whispered, just audible enough for Draco to hear him. "We must go. _Now_."

When they were safely within the corridor and out of earshot, Draco asked, "Severus? What's wrong?"

"We must return to Hermione."

"But-"

"Be silent," Severus said urgently, so absorbed in his tangled thoughts that it was an order instead of a request. "I need to think."

_"Time is not a river, Hermione. It is a whirlpool, unbroken and never-ending."_ As he had said the words, Severus had understood. The words were inaccurate, and the understanding had disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. But he had known, just for an instant, even as he had known that the understanding would return someday. This time, when understanding swept over him, it did not disappear.

_All this time, and the answer was something that I have understood for so long, I never once considered its importance. _

_"The future is what we make it to be,"_ Albus' ghost whispered again from the depths of memory. _"Do not forget that, Severus."_

_You were trying to tell me. At the very end, you were trying to make me understand._

He was walking so quickly that they reached the Headmaster's office in record time. Without bothering to knock, Severus walked inside, through the office itself, and threw open the door to their borrowed quarters. He saw Hermione look up quickly as he took off the cloak, folded it, and laid it neatly on the table. Even in the midst of his distraction, Severus was very careful with Harry's most prized possession. This task completed, he began to pace.

"Is Draco-?"

"Here," Draco called, allowing Hermione to locate him and remove the spell. Once visible, he hurried to Severus' side.

"Did you get the letters?" Hermione asked immediately upon seeing him.

"Not now," Draco brushed her question aside and planted himself in front of Severus, who suddenly found his pacing hampered by a Malfoy-shaped obstruction.

"The time traveling," Severus said, coming out of his wildly churning thoughts to focus intently on Draco and Hermione.

"I… What?" Draco blinked, looking baffled.

"I know how to avoid the paradox."

At this, Hermione leapt off the chair she had been sitting in and came to join Draco. "How did you figure it out?"

It was one thing to understand something, having believed it all of his life. It was quite another to explain it to someone who might have never heard of such a thing before. Old habits being well nigh impossible to break, Severus fell back on the one thing with which he had had many years experience. He answered her question with one of his own. "When Mister Weasley asked you to marry him, what were your options?"

"What on earth does that have to do with anything?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

The confusion that had passed over Draco's face when Severus had begun talking started to clear. "I think I understand… Just answer him, Hermione."

"I could have said yes, or I could have said no," Hermione replied, glancing between the two of them warily but apparently deciding to humor Draco's request.

"If you had said no, what would have happened?"

"I-I don't know. I never really thought about it. Any number of things, I guess. Ron and I could have postponed the wedding if I wasn't ready. We might have split up. Maybe we would have never spoke again. We might have gone back to being friends. Why?"

"_Could_ you have said no?" Severus pressed on.

"That's an awfully odd-" at the look Draco gave her, she said quickly, "Yes, of course. Why couldn't I have said no?"

"You are then saying that there could have been a future - a time - in which you and Ron Weasley were not married?"

"Yes."

"For every choice we are given, there are outcomes. Every outcome contains a future. When we make choices, what are we trying to choose?"

Hermione and Draco exchanged a look.

"The best future?" Draco answered, sounding as if he was leery of the question being some sort of trick.

"No," Severus shook his head. "When you are given the choice to eat a sandwich or not, what determines if you eat it?"

"Whether I'm hungry or not," Hermione answered slowly, no longer sounding as if she thought Severus had lost his mind.

"When?"

"What? Now, obviously."

Severus nodded. "Precisely. When we make a decision, we chose based on how we are feeling right now. If you are hungry _now_, if you wish to be married _now_, if right _now_ you would rather grade some assignments or take a break and play a game of Quidditch. Do you understand? Every choice we make is based on one moment. _This _moment. _Now_."

_"I learned that there is no past and there is no future. There is only one long, endless moment. Now is all you have ever had."_ The answers had been there all along, learned from long years of loneliness and pain. Not for the first time, Severus wondered what it would have been like if he had listened to himself, instead of dismissing every scrap of personal philosophy as useless drivel.

"If you had chosen not to marry Ron, how would you be feeling right now? Would you be mourning the loss of your husband? No, because you never would have known that you had had one. Had I never gone to New York, I would not be here now, feeling the way that I do. I might very well be dead. Had Voldemort won, the Muggles would have never destroyed our world and we would be standing in a completely different place."

Severus paused, working through his words carefully. Comprehension was becoming evident in Hermione and Draco's eyes, but he knew that they still did not understand how any of what he was saying pertained to actually _changing_ time.

"Time is often likened to a river, stretching from one point to another. But it is not. You cannot feel yourself move along the course of time. You can remember the past and you can contemplate the future. But you can never _move_ from the state of the past to the state of the future. You only exist in the now. The future never comes. The past never drifts further away. _Time_ can be changed, because the reality is that there is no time. Time is nothing more than a construct of our minds. It is a way for us to break down the enormity of now into manageable increments that we can experience individually. But there is only _one_ moment. And that moment is what you make it to be, what you _choose_ it to be.

"We can go back and choose a different path. We can choose a path that does not involve the Muggle world discovering our own. Then our now would not be the three of us standing in a castle that gets destroyed, trying to figure out how to prevent it. Our now would be the three of us living and working in a castle that was never destroyed to begin with."

"There is no paradox," Hermione said softly.

"No, there is not. There never was," Severus affirmed gravely.

"So we go back to when it started and choose something else? How does that negate the paradox?" Draco's brow was furrowed.

"Because there's a choice," Hermione replied, turning to him. "We're making a choice to go back and stop it from happening. We could choose not to stop it. There is future - a series of events that will occur - for each option that we have. And those futures will exist no matter which we choose. Instead of choosing a world that dies, we'll be choosing one that lives."

"And what happens to us?" Draco asked warily.

"We are, right now, the sum of our experiences. If our experiences were different, we would cease to be as we are in this moment," Severus answered, understanding what Draco was going to say and heading him off. "We would be absorbed back into time, our consciousness would fade, and another version of ourselves would take our place. They would be the people we would have been, had our world never been destroyed."

"And those selves won't remember anything that's happened?"

"I doubt it."

"But if we don't remember, then-"

"It does not matter," Severus interrupted severely. "We have not done this to preserve ourselves. We have done this to preserve what we have lost."

"I'm not thinking about us, Severus," Draco murmured, meeting his eyes.

_No. I know you are not. _"There is no easy answer to any of this, Draco. What began before the attack on our people will undoubtedly continue. It may take longer, without the sense of desperation hurrying it along. It may not contain some of the moments over which bonding occurred. But up until the exposure, we would be the same people that we are now. It _is_ worth it, Draco. You know it is."

Severus held his gaze for a few moments more, before Draco sighed and nodded his acceptance of Severus' words. "I know. It's just… I hate to think that everything we learned, everything _all_ of us learned, will be erased."

"Everything comes with a price, Draco."

"That's one thing you don't have to tell me, Severus," Draco smiled bitterly.

_No, I do not suppose that I do. _

A minute of silence descended on them then, as they contemplated the meaning and ramifications of Severus' words.

"We still need to find out _what_ exactly it was that happened," Hermione said, breaking the silence.

"Here." Draco held out the letters that had been clutched in his hands, forgotten.

It didn't take them long to read through the correspondence and the article that Kevin and Ben had enclosed in their first letter. Reading over the letters, Severus felt his skin begin to prickle as a chill ran down his back. It was different than reading a caution in the _Daily Prophet_ long after the initial events had begun. Reading it like this was like experiencing it all over again.

"I guess this answers the question of where it started," Hermione said finally. "And it corresponds to what that article in the _Daily Prophet_ was talking about, when it said about strange activities in America."

"Now what? Out of the three of us, you're the most familiar with America, Severus," Draco pointed out. "What are we going to do?"

Severus picked up the article and glanced over it again. "We will go back to when this article was written. We will visit with Kevin and Ben and we will see if we cannot find the rest of the answers for which we are searching."

- Scene Shift -

Draco was finding it exceedingly difficult to sleep. It wasn't so much the prospect of traveling back in time in the morning. It wasn't even apprehension over Apparating across the Atlantic Ocean. No, it was meeting Kevin and Ben for the first time since the Muggles had destroyed Hogwarts.

_"Please… Help me…"_

_ "Avada Kedavra!"_

Blinking at the memory of the Muggle's outstretched hand disappearing in a flare of green light, Draco stood up, left the quarters quietly so as not to wake anyone, and began to pace around Dumbledore's office. Faintly, he could still hear the echo of his voice, screaming the words for the most unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses.

_'That was a man who had just killed someone for whom you cared very deeply. Vengeance in those circumstances is to be expected.'_

Glancing to the chair Fawkes had claimed as his perch, Draco shook his head. _I don't just hate the Muggles that attacked us, Fawkes. I hate them all. If I were not needed here, I would not hesitate to leave this place and attempt to eradicate them all from the face of the earth._

_ 'You will not harm Kevin and Ben.'_

_ How do you know that?_

_ 'Because you would not be worrying about your reaction to meeting them face to face, if you were so bent on indiscriminately murdering Muggles.'_

The phoenix's words made sense. And yet… _I know myself, Fawkes. I know how easy it is for me to lose control._

_ 'You would not hurt Harry's friends. You may fear that you will, but that very fear will stay your hand, however much the sight of the Muggles infuriates you.'_

_ I wish I had your confidence in me_, Draco returned ruefully.

_'Why do you say that?'_

_ Because then I'd have figured out already what it is that I know about what happened to our world._

_ 'Search your memories, Draco.'_

_ I've tried, Fawkes. But I can't remember._

_ 'You are looking from inside yourself. Look from beyond.'_

_ What in the hell are you…?_ Draco's circuit across the room had put him in the perfect position to see moonlight glint against the side of something resting in one of Dumbledore's cabinets. Pausing, Draco turned to eye Fawkes suspiciously. _Was that you?_

_ 'I am quite sure that I have no idea what you are talking about.'_

Giving Fawkes a narrow look, Draco crossed the office, opened the cabinet, and hesitatingly withdrew a shallow bowl. "What the hell is… A Pensieve?" he blinked. "Oh for… Of course Dumbledore would have a damn Pensieve." _Hermione was right. The gods only know what it would be like if I wasn't such a fool._

Shaking his head at himself, Draco carried the bowl back into Dumbledore's quarters and sat down at a table. Fawkes alighted onto the top of the table, looked into the empty bowl, and then peered expectantly at Draco.

_Going to give me a hand?_

_ 'Something like that.'_

Draco put his wand against his temple, then paused and looked at Fawkes. _Kind of late to be asking this now, but I've got a lot of memories._

_'Think back through everything that happened. What feels wrong?'_

_ What feels…_ Draco cast back through his memories, avoiding the ones most closely associated with the fall of the castle and the deaths involved. He wasn't ready to relive those in the sort of detail the Pensieve would provide. After what felt like an eternity, he looked back at Fawkes in frustration.

_I don't know. The only thing that strikes me as screwy is Potter bringing his Muggle friends to Hogwarts. But we've already determined that Ben and Kevin are _not_ at fault for this. _

_ 'Perhaps it would be wise to see your intuition through to its conclusion.'_

Frowning, Draco extracted the memories of the night he had - against his better judgment - followed Harry to meet his Muggle friends. He watched the memories swirl in the Pensieve before, with a deep breath and a sideways glance at Fawkes, he leaned in.

When he surfaced again, he turned to Fawkes in amazement.

"There was someone else there that night!"


	9. All Things Fair

Chapter 9: All Things Fair…

'_What are you doing?'_

_Something stupid._

'_Should I even ask?'_

_I need to know before I tell them. If I'm wrong, then I'll tell them what I discovered and let them figure out what to do next. But if I'm right, it will save us a lot of time. I want this finished, Fawkes. I want this nightmare to end._

'_And if they awake and find you gone?'_

_They won't. I'll return the moment I leave._

'_And if you are right?'_

_What do you mean?_

'_Will you return straightaway? Or will you act?'_

_Haven't you already seen the answer to that during your foray into my mind? What I wish to do and what I _will _do are two completely different things. _

'_The circumstances of this are nothing like what has come before or will likely come again.' _

_It doesn't matter how I feel; I don't have the right._

'_You do not?'_

_No. I can't take that from him. He watched him _die_, Fawkes. He watched those damned Muggles kill him. I will not take his vengeance from him._

'_One could argue that you experienced the same thing.'_

_It's not the same._

'_Are you prepared for this?'_

_There isn't anything to prepare for. Whatever it takes, I will do. I'll bring this whole damn world to its knees, if that will set things right._

'_Then let us go. Before one of them wakens and sees you standing there.'_

_You're coming with me?_

'_Of course. Where else would I be?'_

Draco's lip twitched in the barest of bemused smiles. There being only the shades of humor and despair with which to view the ironies of life, Draco found himself thankful for the experiences that had embittered him enough to laugh. Any more despair, and he knew that he would break.

It was easier than he thought it would be, removing the Time Turner from the table next to the bed upon which they were sleeping. For all his confidence, Draco had still been expecting something to go wrong. In his experience, it usually did. But this time nothing fell from the table; he didn't knock into the bed when he turned around to leave the room; and neither Severus nor Hermione woke up when he cracked opened the door and slid out into the sitting room.

Fawkes was waiting for him, perched on the back of the chair upon which the invisibility cloak was lying. '_You do not need it,'_ the phoenix told him as he approached the chair and reached for the cloak. '_I will transport us out of the castle.'_

_What about later?_ Draco asked, holding out his arm.

Fawkes stepped forward, closing his talons around Draco's forearm tightly. '_What are you going to be concealing yourself from?'_

Draco mulled it over for a moment, before he nodded. _You make a valid point._

'_When do I not?'_

_Some of us haven't been alive for centuries, Fawkes. We can't all be as wise as you._

Fawkes did not respond, but it felt as if cold, wet ash had blown across the surface of his mind. It was an unpleasant sensation, and Draco shook his head as if to clear it.

'_Are you ready?'_ Fawkes asked after a moment's silence.

_Yeah_. Draco barely had time to blink before they appeared out on the grounds, about half a kilometer from the castle.

_I wish Apparating was as easy as that_. While he had never had the sort of trouble some people had with Apparition, Draco did have to admit that, good at it or not, it still wasn't the most pleasurable way to travel. It saved time and was preferable to something like the Knight Bus, but having his stomach upset for twenty minutes after each jump seemed like a hefty price to pay for avoiding public transportation. Yet the transition between locations that Fawkes made was always painless and seamless.

'_You are not made of magic,'_ Fawkes offered quietly.

Draco blinked in surprise. _I didn't know you were listening._

The flames flickered in what felt like the mental equivalent of a shrug. '_When you Apparate, you are inserting yourself into a place in which you do not belong. The world flows around you when you move through space naturally, but when you Apparate, you place yourself into an area that is not prepared to accommodate you. The discomfort you feel is the resistance, before the world finishes reshaping itself around you. I am magic, and magic exists everywhere at once. _

Draco frowned. _They never told us that in school._

'_Can a rabbit who has never been anything but a rabbit know what it is to be a bird? Can the rabbit explain why birds fly? Or what it feels like to ride the currents of the air? Human knowledge is not complete; you know only what it is that you can experience, that you can understand. Human knowledge is limited by human perception of the world.'_

A smile twitched at the corner of Draco's lips. _Why didn't they ever get you to teach a class? We had a centaur and a giant, why didn't we have a phoenix?_

'_Because Albus was too busy fighting Voldemort and the Ministry to be my voice.'_

_What do you mean? I can hear you just fine._

'_Yes, _you _can. But if I were to try and speak to another, I would not be heard.' _

_Why?_

'_Because I have bonded with you.'_

_I don't understand. You said that Dumbledore could hear you, too._

'_I did not bond with you until Albus was dead.'_

_But…_ It was an instinctive reaction to question and deny the phoenix's words, and yet, as he cast back through his mind, Draco found nothing to disprove the words and everything to validate them. The first flicker of fire, the first rustling hiss of the flames came only after the castle had disintegrated in a flash of light. In his mind, he could still hear the echo of the haunting cry that had begun as the light had faded away. And for the first time, Draco found himself wondering what it was that Fawkes had lost that day.

_Fawkes…?_ He began, not knowing what it was that he wanted to say, but unable to stay silent.

'_I was not alone for long,'_ Fawkes replied, sensing the heart of what it was that Draco was attempting to convey.

_I never wondered,_ Draco thought in the deeper parts of his mind where for privacy's sake Fawkes would not go. _What happened to all of the creatures of the Forbidden Forest? Did the Muggles kill them? Did they disappear when the castle did? Did they leave the grounds before the attack? Or did they die afterwards, when all of the magic was gone? And what of the rest of the magical creatures throughout the world? How are they being affected by the war? _He had been so caught up in his own feelings - and in the feelings of Severus and Hermione - that he had never bothered to ask how Fawkes was doing. Maybe before he knew that the phoenix could talk, that lack of consideration was understandable, but once he knew, it was unforgivable.

'_I do not have to know exactly what you are thinking, Draco, to know what you are thinking,'_ Fawkes murmured reprovingly. '_Do not chastise yourself for something you did not know.'_

_Sometimes there are things that we_ should _know, Fawkes. _

It had not been his intention to stand around having a lengthy conversation with the phoenix, but Draco found himself too intrigued to break it off. It was the first conversation they had had since Fawkes had begun speaking to him that was not laced with riddles and vagaries, and Draco freely admitted to himself that he was loathe to let it end. Standing there with the Time Turner in his hand, Draco figured that the rest could wait for a few minutes. After all, it wasn't as if time was something of which he was in short supply.

_Why did Dumbledore really send you with us?_ Draco asked, sensing that if he wanted a straight answer to something, now would be the most likely time to get it. _I can't believe that it was just to 'accompany' us like he claimed. _

'_No, it was not. I came with you for a reason.'_

_What reason? That's something I haven't been able to figure out. He didn't send you to save Severus, because you didn't cry over his wounds like you did over mine. And I doubt that the point was to heal me. _

'_Severus was about to die; you were not. My tears can heal wounds, but they cannot heal the soul. You and Hermione were needed for that.'_

It didn't escape Draco's notice that Fawkes hadn't answered the question. _Then why, Fawkes? To get me to look into the Pensieve? To make it easier for us to get around? To nudge me in the right direction? None of it makes any sense._

'_That is because you are neglecting the simplest explanation.'_

_What explanation is that?_

'_He sent me so that I could bond with you.'_

Of all the reasons, that seemed the most anti-climatic. For Dumbledore to manipulate so many events and so many people for whatever purpose he had in sending them back through time, Draco had been expecting the headmaster to have a more important role in mind for Fawkes than that. _Me? Why me?_

Fawkes was silent for a very long time. '_Is now truly the proper time for this?'_

_There isn't a better one. I've got the Time Turner, and I haven't been able to get much in the way of a straight answer out of you any of the other times I've asked you something. If this is my only chance, I'm not going to pass it up._ There was, Draco was sure, a far more tactful way of putting it. Yet, having never been one for tact in the past, he saw no reason to start exercising that option now.

'_It is not an easy answer, Draco.'_ There was a warning there, in Fawkes' words, that clearly asked him to reconsider pressing the issue.

_There _is _no easy answer, Fawkes,_ Draco replied seriously. _There never has been, and there never will be. I need to know. There are so many pieces of this puzzle that I haven't uncovered, but those pieces need to be found, or I don't think that we're ever going to be able to put it together. I have accepted so much in my life; I can accept this too. Tell me. Please._

'_To save our world, it was something that needed to occur.'_

Draco raised an eyebrow. _There's more to it than that, Fawkes. I know there is._

'_There is much still that I cannot tell you, for what you do must be your choice, not the result of my counsel or direction. Do you understand?'_

_I'm going to do something at some point that's going to affect the timeline and you can't tell me because if I know, I might not do it or if I do, it'll be for the wrong reasons, right?_

'_That is it precisely.'_

_See, I'm not a complete idiot._ Draco paused, allowing his thoughts to settle. _But what's the rest of it, Fawkes? I'll grant that you're a part of the solution we're looking for, but Severus and Hermione were there too. You could have chosen one of them._

'_No, Draco. I could never have chosen one of them.'_

A feeling of gravity accompanied those words that Draco didn't comprehend. _I'm still not sure what you're alluding to, Fawkes._

'_We change what we touch, Draco.'_

And with those words, Draco finally understood. He could feel the blood draining from his face, the sudden shaking of his hands, the weakness in his legs that threatened to drop him where he stood. Yet his fingers remained clenched around the spindles of the hourglass, refusing to let go despite the trembling of his hand, and Fawkes was not jarred from the perch on his arm, even though it was an effort to keep his suddenly feeble-feeling body upright.

"Why?" he whispered, his thoughts racing in too many directions for him to speak silently.

'_I do not know. It seems to be one of the side-effects.'_

"And he knew…"

'_Yes, to both your questions. Albus experienced it himself. And he knows how you feel.'_

"Then why did he do this to me?" The words burst out of him more angrily than Draco had intended.

'_So that you would not be alone.'_

Draco shook his head, feeling something tight and uncomfortable trying to claw its way out of his throat. He wondered if he was edging toward becoming hysterical. "There's only one thing in this world that I fear, Fawkes. Just one."

'_I know.'_

"Then how in the nine hells did he think he was helping me?" Draco caught himself before his voice rose to a shriek. Time Turner or no, the remaining bits of his world cracking or no, the last thing he wanted to do was be overheard by some insomniac roaming the castle or its grounds.

'_It is the only way to save them.'_

The words cut through the terrified outrage and touched him more painfully than if he had been struck. His knees buckled, dumping him to the ground. And there he knelt, unable to move, head bowed, hand clutching the hourglass so tightly it was a testament to its magical nature that it didn't break. Fawkes, unseated by Draco's collapse, landed on the ground by his leg.

"My father once told me that we were cursed," Draco murmured to himself, his eyes blindly staring at the ground. "I didn't believe him then. I do now."

_Anything but this! _ Draco wanted to scream. _Anything else. Ask anything else of me. Do anything else. But not this. My gods, not this…_ He hadn't thought that anything worse could possibly happen to him, not after everything that had already happened. But he had been wrong. So very, very wrong.

'_Draco…'_

"No!" A surge of adrenaline enabled Draco to raise his head enough to look Fawkes in the eyes. "Don't say it. You can say anything else you want, but for the love of hell, don't apologize to me."

Fawkes tilted his head, though the meaning of the gesture was lost on Draco. '_If there had been another choice, Albus would have taken it. But by bonding with you, our world will be saved and those that have died will live once again.'_

"Why am I always the battlefield?" Draco asked rhetorically, the ebbing of the adrenaline taking a lot of his fear and anger with it, leaving only weariness in its place.

'_It could very well be that upon completion of our mission, we will be absorbed back into the timeline and all of this will be as if it never was,'_ Fawkes reminded him.

"Hermione remembers playing with the timeline when she and Potter went back to save Buckbeak," Draco countered, slowly dragging himself to his feet. "There aren't any guarantees here, Fawkes." _And am I really looking for them?_ he wondered, looking up into the sky as if the answers would be there somewhere, written in the stars. _If I had known, three years ago, what would be asked of me now, would I have done it differently? Would I have gone somewhere else instead of Hogwarts? Would I have given up all that I have come to know, for the sake of never having to feel it be taken away? When does the price for loving others become so high that we would rather have never known them, than suffer the pain that living without them brings?_

The memories played back through his mind, all that he had come to know in the last thirteen years. The events that had shaped his life were not the big things; they were not the war, the defeat of Voldemort, or his father's death. They were the little things; the seemingly meaningless conversations, the stupid inside jokes, the banter, the play, the touch of a hand, the backhanded affection buried beneath mockery and insults, a look in the eyes, and the knowledge of no longer being alone. All of the things that an outsider would view as trivial, that Draco had carefully collected and stored away as the precious things they were. It was all there, each memory clear and preserved as if no time had passed, as if nothing had eroded away.

_Never_, Draco finally decided, ending the struggle that had been raging within him since the first letter Harry's friends had sent that had hinted at some grave calamity approaching beyond the edge of the horizon. _The price is never too high. For those moments, for that time, for memories that I will hold until I die, I will pay whatever I must. I would rather live in pain for the rest of my life, than never to have known even one of those moments. It _is _worth it. No matter how long I live on after they are gone._

Scrubbing at his face, Draco turned away from the sky and looked down at Fawkes. "Come on," he said, stretching out his arm. "We've got a job to do."

'_Have you found your answer?'_ Fawkes inquired, as he alighted on the proffered arm.

"Yeah, I did," Draco said, knowing that he truly had. "Besides," he added with a small, wry smile. "I'm not getting any younger."

'_No,_' Fawkes agreed. '_But you are becoming wiser.'_

"You'll see, Fawkes. One day, I'll as wise as you."

'_I would not count on that, if I were you.'_

Draco laughed. "Careful there, oh wise sage. You're turning into me."

'_Perhaps you come with side-effects as well.'_

"You could be right," Draco conceded, as Fawkes shuffled up his arm until the phoenix was comfortably resting on his shoulder. Turning his attention to the Time Turner, Draco held it up, hoping that what worked before would work again. "Take us forward," he said, willing it to respond in the manner he wanted. "Take us to the day after the destruction of Hogwarts."

The sands glittered as he flipped the Time Turner, and then everything bled into light. When his eyes had adjusted to the brightness that refused to fade away, Draco found himself standing in the middle of a barren, alien landscape. For a moment, he worried that the Time Turner had malfunctioned. But then rationality caught up with vision, and he knew that there had been no malfunction. _I am never going to get used to this_.

'_Be glad for that. The person who could look upon this and feel nothing is not someone I would ever wish to meet.'_

_Me either_, Draco agreed, looking around and feeling the same aching loss he had felt the first time he had seen the devastation.

He had not gotten too close to the site where the castle had stood during his panicked search of the grounds. But now, standing next to it in the brightness of the day, Draco was afforded an intimate view of the damage that had been done. The land that once held the castle was cracked and broken; jagged shards of earth jutted out from the deep pit that had been blasted into the ground. And over it all was a mantel of emptiness where once there had been an infusion of magic.

_Where did it go, Fawkes?_ Draco asked silently. He could not bring himself to break the quiet, as if the sound of his voice would violate the sanctity of what had become the burial ground of his world. _What happened to it?_

'_It went where it needed to go,'_ Fawkes replied after a moment's hesitation.

_What kind of answer is that?_

'_The only one I can give you.'_

The silence stretched between them, Draco mulling over the words as he looked upon the land, and Fawkes resting silently on his shoulder. _It went where it needed to go_, he thought, running the words through his mind and trying to divine the meaning hidden within them. _Where does a castle need to go? Where does magic _need _to go? It just doesn't make any sense. The only place it _needs _to go is back where it belongs!_ Draco was used to non-answers from Fawkes – he had had a lifetime of non-answers from Severus to prepare himself for it – but there were still times when it frustrated him.

_Will it ever come back, do you think?_ Draco asked Fawkes, figuring that, since he was asking for curiosity's sake and not because he felt it was important, Fawkes would answer him.

'_It will return,'_ Fawkes replied, a dry crackle that Draco had come to identify as amusement edging the tone of his words. '_In fact, you could even go so far as to say that it has never truly left.'_

_Okay, now you're just being a git_, Draco returned, rolling his eyes. Leave it to Fawkes to turn something simple into a riddle.

'_It is hardly through any fault of my own that you are incapable of seeing beyond your expectations.'_

_You've really got to stop hanging around Severus so much, Fawkes. You're starting to sound just like him._

'_He is wiser than he is credited. Never forget that.'_

_You're talking to me, here, remember? The guy with the pedestals and the rotten luck._

'_You would not have it any other way.'_ It wasn't a question.

_So shut up and quit complaining, right? I hear you, Fawkes, loud and clear. _Draco looked over the broken land one final time. He wasn't sure why he did it; a thousand years could pass and he knew that he would never forget the sight sprawled out before him. But he did it just the same. Just in case he _did_ forget. Because no matter how much he might wish he had never seen such a thing, Draco never wanted to forget; not the actions that brought him to this point, and not the lessons he had learned because of it. _Have you ever been to the United States?_

'_There is nowhere that I have not been,'_ the phoenix answered.

Draco glanced at him askance, wondering if he ought to be reading more into the statement than he was. _I've never been there myself, and I have no idea where they live. I can't Apparate to a place I've never seen._

Fawkes was silent for a moment. '_I can take us. Only… You did not know that, did you?'_

_No, can't say as I did._

'_What then was your plan if I could not?'_ From the flames, Draco discerned genuine curiosity. Part of him couldn't understand the ethics that the phoenix employed in dealing with the intimate workings of another's mind – Draco was honest enough to admit that it would be damn hard for him not to dig around and see what there was to be found in such an other's mind – while at the same time being rather thankful that Fawkes was the way that he was. Maybe thousands of years had dulled the bird's curiosity. _Or maybe, after all those years, we've just ceased being a mystery._

Draco smiled a tight, humorless smile. _I was going to try anyway. _

The fire flared and Draco knew, without really knowing how he knew it, that Fawkes was proud of him. '_Are you ready for your answers, Draco?'_

_I've been ready._

'_Then we go.'_

Scene Shift

The hallway they appeared in was deserted. Had it not been, Draco had a feeling that his appearing out of thin air with a large, strangely colored bird on his shoulder would have nearly frightened to death any watching Muggles. Not that a few more Muggles deaths would have been a big loss, Draco reflected as he scanned the hallway a second time. But then there surely would have been some sort of row, which would have not been the least bit conducive for getting the answers for which he had come.

_I don't suppose you know which apartment is theirs?_

'_How many of their letters have you seen?'_ Fawkes asked instead, managing to sound faintly exasperated. '_Why is it that you have no recollection of an address you must have seen many times?'_

Draco frowned. _I didn't really expect to drop by for a visit, Fawkes. These are _Muggles_, in case you've forgotten._

'_That one.'_ Though there was no way for Fawkes to point out the correct door, short of flying over to it, Draco still knew which one he meant.

_You know more than you let on, old friend._

'_No, Draco, I am merely more observant than you. The images of the envelopes are still intact in your mind. You must simply start paying more attention to your surroundings. Most of the information you will ever need is located in the tiny details. Remember that, live your life by that, and in the future, your quest for answers will not be nearly as difficult and time-consuming as this one.'_

_I think there's more to it than that,_ Draco said wryly. _Like having been privy to the inner workings of Dumbledore's mind._

'_That may have contributed to my foresight,_ Fawkes conceded easily, ruffling his feathers in what might have been a shrug.

_I don't know what I'm hoping for here,_ Draco thought as he went over to the door, not knowing if he was speaking to Fawkes or himself. The part of him that hated Muggles wanted to blast the door from its hinges, stalk in there, and wrest the answers from Kevin and Ben. There was another part of him, a part that he paradoxically hated and cherished, that shied away from doing anything that might hurt the Muggles that Potter had befriended. Bowing to the inevitable, Draco rapped his knuckles on the door. _I just want to get this over with._

The door cracked opened seconds after he had knocked, making Draco wonder if the Muggles had been expecting someone. He hoped that was not the case; now that he was here, he wasn't leaving until he had gotten what he wanted.

"Yes?" came a voice from the other side of the door. Through the crack, Draco could see an eye looking at him warily. He had no idea whether this was Ben or Kevin. Muggles all looked the same to him.

"Look, whichever one you are," Draco said shortly, restraining himself from reaching for his wand. "I've got something to ask you. Let me in."

The eye blinked, shifting its focus from Draco to Fawkes. "Who are…? Draco?"

From within the apartment, another voice shrieked, "Draco? As in Harry's uber-sexy, white-haired heartthrob?"

Draco winced. That voice could belong to no one but Kevin. Which meant that this one… "I haven't got all damn day here, Ben," Draco snapped, ignoring the fact that the Time Turner in his hand belied his words. "Let us in."

"Us?" The door opened wider, and was it Draco's imagination or did Ben look more haggard than he remembered? It was hard to tell, his memory of the Muggle being rather hazy. "Is Harry here?" Ben asked, leaning forward to peer out into the hallway.

"No." Why did that hurt to say? He'd said it enough these past few days? Hours? Lifetimes? Time had lost its meaning somewhere in the middle of all this. "Move," Draco ground out through clenched teeth, his voice sounding strangely rough to his ears, as he pushed past Ben without touching him and walked into the apartment.

There was Kevin, staring at him as if Draco was the best thing he'd seen all day. At any other time, in any other circumstance, Draco would have agreed with that assumption. After all, what could be better than looking on Draco's magnificence? But today, all Draco felt was inexplicably tired, and mildly confused by an odd lump that appeared to be growing somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. It was distorting his voice, making it gruff and hollow, when he could force it out of his throat at all.

"What's going on, Draco?" Ben asked quietly, shutting the door and following him into the room. "And what is that bird?"

"What happened to your neck?" Kevin piped up from where he was sitting in an armchair, eyes locked onto the scar ringing Draco's throat. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

Draco glanced between the two, suddenly feeling stifled. He hadn't been prepared for questions. He hadn't been prepared to _talk_ to these people, as if what they thought and felt mattered. Their lives were being spared by virtue of their friendship with Potter. That was all the personal consideration Draco was willing to give them.

"Draco?" It was Ben's voice, right next to him. Just as it was Ben's hand, lightly touching his arm.

Jerking away from the unwanted contact, Draco turned so that he was facing them both, his back to the wall as if a fight was about to begin and he needed the protection behind him. _Don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me. _

"He's dead." The words were spoken in his voice, but Draco had no recollection of forming them on his tongue, of speaking them at all.

The Muggles froze, looking at him with wide eyes and slack jaws.

"H-Harry?" Kevin finally asked, his voice a cracking whisper.

"How?" Ben asked, voice moderately steadier than Kevin's.

"It was _Muggles_," Draco replied, the accursed word a snarl he didn't bother to modulate. The words weren't stopping now; instead, they were pouring forth like water burst from a dam – rushed and uncontrollable. "They came to the castle, and they shot him with their guns. We couldn't move, we couldn't stop them, and he looked at us, when he should have been paying attention to them. He looked at us and they shot him in the back of the head."

Horror had replaced the shock in their eyes. Horror, and something that looked far too familiar to Draco. "We couldn't heal him. He was dead when he hit the ground. Severus killed them all, but we couldn't save him. The castle was destroyed, and we went back in time to stop it from happening. But we can't figure out when it started. We don't know what started the war so we can't stop it. But we _must_ stop it."

The words died as abruptly as they had begun, taking with them the manic energy that had momentarily overwhelmed him. Slumping back against the wall, needing all the support he could get and hating the fact that he was showing weakness in front of the Muggles, Draco rubbed a hand at his suddenly aching head.

"I've got to stop this war," he told them quietly. "And I need your help."

"Would you tell us what happened?" Ben inquired gently. "From the beginning?"

And so he did.

Fawkes flew over to a more comfortable perch on the back of a chair, but Draco continued to lean against the wall. It was a long story, starting from when the first letter was received on through his decision this night to come speak with them. Through it all Draco spoke in a cool, measured tone – a far cry from his earlier outburst – and his eyes stared off into the past, reliving each moment of which he spoke. He spared the Muggles no details, and if they were confused by some of the things he said, Draco couldn't blame them. He had lived through it, and even he was confused.

Draco talked for what seemed like hours, the Muggles never interrupting, and when the story caught up with the present, he looked at each of them in turn. They were both pale now. "That is how the world died."

They were silent for a long time then, the Muggles digesting the tale Draco had told them, and Draco carefully shoving all of the emotions the telling had conjured back to the places he had banished them the first time around.

"What can we do?" It was Ben who broke the silence.

"Tell me everything you can about this country in the days leading up to our world's exposure. We know it started here. Was anyone acting suspicious? Did anything seem wrong, in any way? No detail, no matter how small, is unimportant," Draco said, unconsciously echoing Fawkes' sentiment from earlier that evening.

"For a long time, there wasn't anything, explicit or implied," Ben responded, shaking his head and looking at Kevin. "The first time we heard anything was what? Three months after we got back from visiting you in England?"

Kevin nodded his agreement. "About then, yeah. And it wasn't much, either. Just the usual terrorist warnings."

"What usual terrorist warnings?"

Kevin waved Draco's question aside. "Nothing like that. The president's a little too obsessed with seeing terrorists lurking around every corner. Gives him something to do, when he's not trying to repeal the First Amendment, destroy the environment, and send the homosexual community to hell."

"According to the leader of our country, everyone remotely different from his ideal version of an American is a potential terrorist," Ben translated, correctly interpreting Draco's blank look as one of confusion. "So there's always something about terrorism on the news."

"Like he thinks if we all hear about it enough, we'll all get as paranoid and hateful as he is," Kevin muttered under his breath.

"Ignoring politics," Ben said loudly, taking control of the conversation back from Kevin. "We are becoming desensitized to it. But like I said, about three months after our visit, the usual warnings slowly started to change into something more immediate. Usually the terrorists are from other countries, hiding here in America. This time, they _were_ Americans, which made it more dangerous. As the months went by, these warnings began to come more frequently. That newspaper clipping we sent Harry was the first time someone had been arrested and a name given to the organization the authorities believed to be responsible."

Draco mulled over Ben's words, glancing over at Fawkes. The phoenix was in the middle of scratching at the side of his head, seemingly oblivious to the conversation. There was something too artfully casual about that stance though, and Draco had seen it during other occasions when Fawkes was attempting to be nonchalant. This was important, then. Something about what Ben had told him was the key for which he was searching. But what was it?

"What happened during those three months after you returned to this country?" Draco asked.

Ben and Kevin exchanged bewildered looks.

"Nothing," Ben answered, shrugging. "That's the problem. Nothing happened. There weren't any attacks on people or buildings. No mysterious power outages occurred, and there wasn't any increase in crime. Everything was as it always was."

"Remember that day when Cate came over, all frantic?" Kevin broke in slowly, looking at Ben. "That whole thing about her brother?"

Ben looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. "Yes, but so what?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco cut in, staring at them intently. "What happened?"

"Cate's older brother is a member of the FBI," Ben explained, shooting Kevin a dubious look, as if he couldn't believe he had been talked into relating something so unquestionably irrelevant. "And one day about two weeks before we started hearing about these American terrorists for the first time, she came over and told us that her brother was working on something big. She didn't know the details, but she seemed awfully concerned. Her brother had uncovered evidence of some dangerous group and cautioned her to be careful, in case the group was more widespread then was currently believed. She wanted to warn us."

"The FBI is like a secret police force," Kevin told Draco. "I don't know if you've got anything like that in your world, but in ours they gather information and solve crimes."

"There is something similar in our world," Draco responded. "We call them Unspeakables. Their identities are kept secret from everyone, so no one really knows what they do. We tend to think of them like more powerful Aurors – our version of your police. Do you believe that this woman's brother was talking about wizards and witches?"

Ben was shaking his head but Kevin was nodding agreement. "I just think it's weird, is all," Kevin defended himself against Ben's rolling eyes. "FBI guy finds evidence of new terrorists and all of the sudden, we're hearing about it on the news."

"It wasn't all _that_ sudden," Ben objected.

"It's government, Ben. Two weeks is pretty sudden for the government."

"Yes, but still. You know how paranoid you get over things. And…"

The disagreement between Ben and Kevin continued, but Draco had tuned it out. There was something there, in the back of his mind, begging him to take notice. But try as he might, he couldn't grasp the memory that his mind was so desperately trying to show him. _I guess this is what Fawkes meant_, Draco thought in frustration.

"_Most of the information you will ever need is located in the tiny details,"_ the phoenix had just told him. "_Remember that, live your life by that, and in the future, your quest for answers will not be nearly as difficult and time consuming as this one."_

And what was the best remark he could think of to make? "_I think there's more to it than that._ _Like having been privy to the inner workings of Dumbledore's mind."_ Right now, Draco was wishing that _he_ had been privy to Dumbledore's mind. Because Dumbledore always knew what the hell was going on. The little details Draco always missed would never escape Dumbledore's notice. Draco's breath caught in his throat.

Dumbledore's notice.

The memories came at him in rapid, backwards bursts of image and sound.

"_Isn't that right, Mister Malfoy?"_ Dumbledore was asking him, looking right at him even though he was invisible, even though he was in a place and time he didn't belong.

"_You have spoken with Rolanda?"_ McGonagall was saying to Dumbledore, asking a question that wasn't a question.

"_Other things have gone missing?" _Hooch was looking at Dumbledore in surprise.

"_Well, I must say that if it was indeed a prank, it was a remarkably well-organized one. You are not the only one who has reported being unable to find items thought to have been put away,"_ Dumbledore was saying gravely.

"_When did you first notice the disappearance of the broomsticks?"_ Dumbledore was asking with interest that sounded feigned to Draco's cynical ears, almost as if he already knew the answer.

_Other things have gone missing… _

_Her brother had uncovered evidence of some dangerous group… Other things have gone missing…_ _Most of the information you will ever need is located in the tiny details… Other things have gone missing… There was someone else there that night_… _Other things have gone missing… Well guys, it's been fun, but I think it's time for me to go to bed… Other things have gone missing…_ _Oh, hey, there's Cate's coat_ …

_Other things have gone missing… _

"Have you spoken with her since then?" Draco asked quietly, surfacing from his whirling thoughts, trying to ignore the voice screaming in his head that he had found the answer. He needed to be sure. Before he gave in to the exultation, he needed to be damn sure he was right.

Both Muggles nodded.

"On and off," Ben answered without hesitation, apparently missing the way Draco's lip was trying to curl into a feral smile.

"In fact, if you want to talk to her about it yourself, you can hang around," Kevin said helpfully, tilting his wrist to look at something strapped around it. "She ought to be here soon."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "She's coming here now?"

"Hey, don't worry. We never told her what you and Harry really are," Kevin was quick to reassure him, mistaking the coldness in Draco's voice for fear of his true identity being discovered.

'_My, what extraordinary timing.'_

Draco turned to Fawkes with wide eyes. _Did you plan that?_

'_Plan what?'_

"We can say that he's an exotic bird from Madagascar," Ben told Draco, noticing the way Draco was looking at the phoenix.

"Don't worry about it," Draco replied in a low voice, turning back to look at Ben. "This meeting will never happen, just as our world will never die. And when next we meet, it will be as if you hadn't seen me this day. The scar around my neck will never be. That is why I'm here."

"If losing this memory means that Harry'll be back, you can bet we're not gonna miss it," Kevin said, grinning for the first time since Draco had told them the story of Potter's death.

"Good. Then I shall-" The knock on the door stole the breath from Draco's lungs and caused his mouth to slam shut.

"Want us to stall her?" Ben asked, getting to his feet.

"No. Let her in."

As Ben opened the door, Draco tightened his fingers around the Time Turner. Killing her now would serve no purpose, and it would only upset Potter's Muggles. No. Better that he restrain himself and wait. The Muggle would be dealt with in time – Draco's lips skimmed back from his lips at the irony of the thought – and the friends would never know.

"Hi Kevin! You wouldn't believe what- Oh!" Cate stopped, looking at Draco in surprised confusion that slowly turned into surprised recognition. "You're Harry's friend, right? Is he here too?"

The cold, humorless smile Draco turned on her was more a baring of teeth than anything else. "Harry is dead."

"What?" She sounded startled, but because he was looking for it, Draco saw something else pass through her eyes before surprise overtook it.

_Now you will die, Muggle. May you rot in whatever hell you believe in._ "He was killed in the war between wizards and witches," Draco answered, pushing off from the wall and stalking toward her, holding out his arm for Fawkes. The phoenix alighted on the proffered arm at the same moment he reached her side. "Just as you will die for betraying him," Draco murmured as he passed her, his voice a whisper intended only for her.

He heard the gasp she made as he continued on toward the door. He knew that the others would mistake it for surprise over the news about Harry.

Reaching the door, Draco paused to look over his shoulder at Kevin and Ben. "I thank you for your help. Keep yourselves safe, until the world that was meant to be replaces what should have never been."

_Take me back, Fawkes. It's time we set this world right again._

As he passed through the doorway, the apartment building bled away.

Scene Shift

"Wake up! Now!"

Not only did someone have the temerity to _touch_ him, that same someone was shaking him in a most unseemly manner and yelling in his ear. And unless he was mistaken, that same someone had turned the lights on. Perhaps if he ignored the yelling and the shaking, the idiot would go away.

"Damn it, Severus! Wake up."

There was something strangely familiar about all of this, Severus noticed vaguely, still too firmly entrenched in sleep to really care. The words were a little different, but the urgency and the intent was the same. Oh well. Those were thoughts best left for other, more wakeful times.

"I know who betrayed the wizarding world!"

Severus' eyes flew open and he was sitting up before he had registered the movement. Next to him, Hermione was also sitting up. _What in the nine hells is she doing here?_ Severus thought, affronted enough by the indignity of waking up next to her again to give it even that modicum of attention. That was all he could spare, however, as he hurriedly untangled himself from the bedclothes and got to his feet, his eyes still stinging as they adjusted to the brightness of the room.

"Who?" Severus demanded of Draco. The how of it all could wait.

"That damn Cate," Draco replied, then continued on in a rush, without waiting for the question that had begun to form on Severus' tongue. "I used the Pensieve to see if I could remember anything about that night we brought those Muggles here. I saw someone else, right before we Apparated here. I went to see Kevin and Ben, and from what they said, it all started with her brother finding some kind of wizarding artifacts. The day after we brought them to the castle, a lot of things went missing from the castle. I overheard Dumbledore and Hooch talking about it after we came back here. And Cate was there tonight, and I could see the truth of it in her eyes."

Whether it was because his brain was still addled by sleep, or Draco's attempt to try and say everything at the same time, Severus could barely understand him. "Slow down and start over," Severus instructed him, for the first time seeing the pack containing the invisibility cloak slung over Draco's shoulder and the Time Turner hanging in Draco's hands. "I believe we have the time."

This time through, Draco made more sense. The initial anger Severus felt at the younger man doing something so foolish – and if he admitted it to himself, at the fact that he had been left behind on the venture – began to find a new outlet in the girl he had once believed to be Harry's friend. He would have had to have been blind, deaf, and possibly Harry Potter to miss the signs that had pointed to the girl being interested in him. However, she barely knew him, and nothing he had ever done could have been construed as encouragement in her futile pursuit. To go this far, to cause this much destruction for something so foolish and inconsequential was unbelievable to Severus. Of all the people who _could_ have been responsible, Cate Taylor was not even on the list.

"Of all the hateful things!" Hermione exclaimed, after Draco brought the story to a close. "I can't believe she'd do something like that over something so trivial."

"There must be more to it than that," Severus said, trying to make sense of such a senseless act. "Not having a passing interest returned does not warrant such extreme behavior. I have worked with some of the most jealous, greedy people in the world, and all of them had more understandable reasons for the atrocities they committed."

"Does it really matter _why_ she did it?" Draco asked impatiently.

Severus shook his head. "Not particularly, no. Whatever her reasons, her actions caused the collapse of our world and the death of countless wizards and witches. It is just hard for me to understand, having spent so much time around the girl."

Hermione began straightening out her robes. "Are we going then?"

Draco stared at her suspiciously. "That was too easy."

The withering look Hermione gave Draco was one that Severus had never seen her employ, and judging by the way Draco's eyes widened, the younger man hadn't either. "She killed Ron, Draco. She killed Harry, and Albus, and Hagrid, and all of our colleagues. She destroyed the Weasleys, and countless other families. Why on earth did you think I was going to argue with you about stopping her?"

"Well, because by stopping her I mean kill her, and you always get disagreeable about stuff like that," Draco said, running his hand through his hair and looking rather sheepish.

"No one is a saint," Hermione muttered darkly.

Severus raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. While he could appreciate her intelligence, Severus had never been able to comprehend Albus' reason for sending her along with them. With Draco, it was easy to understand. The last Malfoy was ruthless enough to do whatever was necessary, and if there happened to be a Muggle that needed killing, Severus knew that Draco would be only too happy to oblige. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be of the 'talking-will-solve-everything' breed, and if it came down to killing anyone, he had been sure that it would have caused an argument. _I suppose there is a breaking point for even the most pacifistic of us all. _

Looking around the room, Severus saw that there was nothing left to do. There were no preparations to make, and no clothes to change. They slept in the clothes they had been wearing when the world ended, and the only weapons they needed were the lessons they had been taught throughout their respective years of schooling.

"Do you know when precisely we need to be?" Severus questioned Draco.

"Generally yes, although I didn't check the time before-" Draco paused, cocking his head slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. Severus' gaze flickered to Fawkes, who was in the process of stretching his wings. "Right," Draco continued a minute later. "What we should do is go back further, before we Apparated. That way we can see _how_ Cate did what she did, make sure that there isn't anything we're neglecting."

"Do you have a plan for that?" Hermione asked, sounding dubious about the likelihood of Draco having made a plan for anything. "Or is this another spontaneous thing?"

"You're just jealous," Draco retorted smugly. "And yes, I do have a plan. Fawkes will take us outside the castle, we'll go back to that night, and then Fawkes will transport us to that hotel. I remember what it looks like, so that won't be a problem. We'll time it so that we're there in time to follow everyone to where the Apparition occurred."

It sounded reasonable enough. But truthfully, Severus would have agreed to get started without a plan. Now that their path was clear, the time for talking and planning was over. If there was anything else left to say, they could say it once Cate was stopped.

"Let us go."

Draco nodded, holding out his hands as Fawkes landed on his shoulder. "We've got to be touching."

Hermione made a face as she took the hand held out to her. "Holding hands with Malfoy," she complained in mock disgust. "Could I sink any lower?"

"You've already married Weasley," Draco reminded her. "I don't think it's possible to get lower than that. And look at it this way, years from now, it'll be something to tell your kids about: the day you got to touch the magnificently beautiful Draco Malfoy."

His voice was so pompous that Hermione began laughing, and when she bowed her head to stifle her laughter, Severus saw Draco wink at him. The corners of his own lips quirked in approval. _Very well done, Mister Malfoy._

There was something remarkable about Draco's ability to take people out of the immediacy of their problems, how he could make them laugh when such a thing seemed impossible, and how he could make them forget, just for a moment, the hardships they were about to face.

"Come on, Severus," Draco invited, waving his free hand. "Unlike you, I know how to share. And I'll only bite if you ask me nicely."

Rolling his eyes, Severus moved closer and took the hand. Then, for reasons he couldn't begin to explain, he gave in to a long forgotten impulse and murmured into Draco's ear, "You should not make promises you are not willing to keep."

And the strangled choke that reached his ears as they started to fade away brought a self-satisfied smirk to Severus' face.

Scene Shift

So far, Draco's plan had met with success.

Fawkes had taken them to the Forbidden Forest, where they made the jump back through time. Then, before they went any further, Severus had placed an invisibility spell over the three of them. Fawkes – Draco had told him when he had made a gesture to include the phoenix in the spell casting – could take care of his own concealment. Draco had also offered the invisibility cloak, but Severus believed that to be too risky, as they might need to move quickly and couldn't afford having a stray breeze ruffle the cloth at an inopportune time. They had only one chance at this, and Severus wasn't willing to risk its success on the cloak.

If a mistake got made and damage was done to the endeavor, they would need to go back to the moment that it happened and attempt to repair it. Going back a second time would introduce another group of them into the mix, and they'd already have their hands full dodging the group they were following, without having to worry about making sure not to run into themselves as well. The further they went, the more complicated it got, until Severus began to doubt their combined ability to juggle it all.

They had made it without incident to the hotel Harry's Muggle friends were staying in, and were currently standing guard around the door to the room Draco had indicated was theirs. Even though it was late and the other inhabitants of the hotel must have been trying to sleep, the occupants of room 286 were being quite boisterous. It hardly came as a surprise to Severus, though, since one of those occupants was Kevin Ramsey.

A laugh that could only belong to Kevin could be heard out in the hall, followed by a very indignant protest of "Not bloody likely!" Turning his head to the empty-looking space that was Draco standing next to him, Severus raised an eyebrow that he knew Draco was unable to see.

"Shut up and forget about it," came a quiet, disgruntled mutter.

The air moved next to him – Draco shifting his position – and Severus blinked back a sneeze as phoenix feathers brushed against his face. Reaching out to move them away, Severus' fingers encountered fleshy resistance.

"Ow, that's my _eye_," Draco hissed almost immediately. "Watch what you're doing."

"Remove yourself from my personal space and the problem will be solved," Severus returned, giving the air a poke for good measure.

"Stop it!" The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed rather loudly in the hall.

Severus froze, in the middle of withdrawing his hand from Draco's slap.

"Would you two shut up?" Hermione hissed from the other side of the door. "What if they hear you?"

"He started it!" Draco told her, and whether he intended it to or not, his voice sounded like that of a petulant child.

_It is the fault of this infernal waiting,_ Severus thought, sighing. Possessing a limitless fount of patience was not a character trait that Severus had, and now, when everything he knew was hanging in the balance of this very night, he felt as if his nerves would snap. He wanted it done. He wanted to know that Harry would be safe, that he would wake up in the morning without the memory of watching the younger man falling lifelessly to the ground, that he would never see the scar bisecting Draco's throat. They were so close, and yet there was still plenty of time for something to go wrong. Something _always_ went wrong. No matter how well prepared everyone was, there was always something no one had taken into account.

"_Wait, this is not… What are they doing?"_

"_Stop them!"_

Shaking his head, Severus shoved away the memory of another time when reality bared no resemblance to the plan, refusing to allow it to play out to its conclusion. _It will not end as that day did. This time, there will be no failure. We shall not lose. Not as we did that day._

"-like a child," Hermione was saying, as Severus tuned back into the conversation that was taking place in whispered hissing from either side of the door.

"Oh, you're one to talk!"

"I'm not the one causing a commotion!"

"You both need to-" Severus was cut off as the door suddenly opened in his face, forcing him to shrink back against Draco lest it hit him in the face. Draco put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

When the door closed, Severus had an unobstructed view of Cate, standing there looking back and forth down the hallway. The urge to kill her here and now was nearly overpowering. It would be so easy. The hatred Severus could feel sheeting off himself in waves meant that no words would be necessary. He had only to will this detestable creature to die, and she would. Without a sound. Without anyone knowing that her death had occurred.

A burst of pain brought Severus back to himself. Draco's hand had tightened like a vise on his shoulder; in warning or in a struggle to hold himself back from the sort of thoughts Severus had been entertaining, Severus did not know. Perhaps it was a little of both.

Cate started walking then, past Hermione and to the room on the opposite side of the hallway. It was only when she had fumbled a small card out of her pocket, used it to open the door, and went inside, that Draco relaxed the grip he had on Severus' shoulder. Had they not been invisible, Severus would have given him a particularly scathing glare. As it was, he had to settle for trying to rotate the ache away.

"Would you mind removing your hand?" Severus snapped quietly, reaching up to remove the offending appendage himself.

"Shh," Draco hissed, stiffening.

A quick look around the hallway revealed nothing. Severus was just opening his mouth to ask Draco what the problem was _now_ when Cate's door opened, admitting the girl back into the hallway. Severus watched as she approached them, stopped before the door they were guarding, and reached for the doorknob.

"I can't do this anymore!" Even from the hallway, the exclamation could be clearly heard.

Cate's hand froze on the doorknob and Severus' eyes slid closed. This then was the catalyst, the bloody bad timing that had started the world on the path to ruin. He knew it, deep within where intuition lurked, and with that knowledge came a chill that ran down his spine. _This is how the world dies._

From within the room, Severus could hear snatches of conversation – the determined voice of Harry and the horrified voice of Draco. And though he could not hear all the words that were said, the conversation was one that he had heard many times throughout his life: the voices had changed with the years, but the sentiment and the emotion remained the same. The words said the conversation was about wizards and witches and revealing secrets to those who were not supposed to know. But the tones those words were being spoken in told another story entirely. It was a story about loss and loneliness, fear and alienation, about courage and regret, about action and inaction. It was always the same story. It always would be.

They stood there in the hallway for a long time. Cate's hand never moved from the doorknob upon which it rested. Draco never removed his hand from Severus' shoulder. And Severus barely moved enough to breathe. What Hermione was doing on the opposite side of Cate, Severus did not know, but he suspected that it was similar to what he himself was doing: standing as still as humanly possible and trying desperately not to make a sound.

After what seemed like an eternity of taking each breath with agonizing slowness, of willing his heart to beat just a little more quietly, and of holding his body so taut he felt as if it would surely break, Severus very clearly heard Harry's voice.

"Come on, then. While it's still nighttime and everyone will be asleep. I want to take you to Hogwarts."

Cate jerked back from the door as if stung, hurrying away from it and disappearing into her room across the hall. Moments later, the door opened, emitting Harry, Draco, and a very confused looking pair of Muggles. Severus watched them walk down the hall, and as they turned the corner, he saw Cate slip out of her own door. On silent feet she followed them.

And with a deep breath and a heart suddenly heavy with anxiety, so too did Severus. At his back, he felt the movement of air that meant Draco and Hermione had fallen in behind him.

In a few hours time, the nightmare would be over.

He hoped.

Scene Shift

"Now what?" Hermione asked quietly, a few minutes after Cate had disappeared into the darkness.

They had watched as Cate had slipped – at the last possible moment – into the Apparition field Harry had conjured. They had followed, using the Time Turner to get there ahead of everyone. They had seen her frantic lunge into the darkness, while the others had looked about themselves in confusion. The sky was cloudless, the moon not yet full. There was some small amount of light, but not nearly enough for the others to see that they had been followed. Had he not known such a thing had happened, even Severus himself might have missed her presence.

Cate had stayed concealed behind a cluster of trees while Harry had summoned the broomsticks, and once the men had boarded them and taken flight, she had come out and started forward, moving in the direction the others had gone. It would take about two hours to reach the castle at speed she was walking. By that time, according to Draco's recitation of the events that were taking place, Kevin and Ben would be safely ensconced in Harry's quarters, and none of them would know that they had been followed.

"We walk," Severus told her, although he made no move to go after Cate.

"We're going to get separated if we stay like this," Hermione objected, the rustling of leaves on the ground an indication of where she was standing. "It's too dark for her to see us, and like this, we'll only manage to get ourselves lost."

"We went straight for the castle. We'd have to _try_ to get lost," Draco disagreed, moving around until he bumped into Severus. "Sorry." A moment of silence passed before he said reluctantly, "You know, you've got a point. I can't believe it's come to this, but I agree with her, Severus. Unless you want me running into you every couple of feet, we're going to have to remove the invisibility."

Put like that, Severus had to agree with him. He was wary of exposing them to the possibility of being discovered, but it would be just as bad if they were betrayed by the noise that resulted from their bumbling into each other. Better that they were alert for others, instead of splitting their attention between guarding against others and themselves.

"Very well," Severus responded, and with a gesture, removed the spell. The usefulness of the spell's removal was debatable: where before there had been nothing, there were now darker blobs in a field of black. It was not a vast improvement, but navigating by blob was easier than navigating by nothing.

"Well…" came Draco's voice from the closest blob, sounding thoroughly underwhelmed. "That was… worthless."

"You know, perhaps they ought to rethink the color scheme for our robes," Hermione said thoughtfully, moving over to them. "It's no wonder the Death Eaters had such an easy time sneaking onto the castle grounds the night they attacked."

"I think it was more than just the color of their robes, Hermione." Draco replied doubtfully.

"I am quite sure that this is a debate that can be postponed to a more appropriate time," Severus put in, before they got embroiled in an argument.

"Do you think she's got enough of a start?" Hermione asked, all signs of disagreement vanishing.

The blob shifted in what Severus guessed was Draco shrugging. "I guess. We're in a forest, so if a stick cracks or the leaves rustle, she'll probably just think it's an animal."

"I do not want her to get too far ahead," Severus said, trying to walk a line that was getting thinner by the moment. "I would prefer that she not hear much of us, if she must hear us at all. However, I also have no wish to give her too great an opportunity to slip past us and get away."

"She can't get away, Severus. We know where she's staying. Worse comes to worse, we go back to her hotel room, lie in wait, and kill her there."

"I would rather we avoid that option," Severus told him. "We cannot be completely certain that she goes straight back. If she does not, and instead makes contact with someone else – this brother of hers, perhaps – then all of this will have been for naught."

"Then let's go now and get this over with," Draco said decisively. "All of this waiting around is making me anxious."

"You're not alone in that," Hermione chimed in, understanding evident in her voice.

"It shall only be a few short hours more," Severus responded, starting forward carefully. Then he paused and glanced back toward Draco as something occurred to him. "Fawkes, will you speak with me a moment?"

"He says yes," Draco answered after a moment.

In all his time at Hogwarts, Severus had never considered Fawkes to be anything but a bird. Granted, he was a remarkable bird, but a bird nonetheless. To hold a conversation with the phoenix like this, especially with Draco acting as an intermediary, was very strange and counterintuitive. _Life_ had become strange and counter-intuitive, though, so Severus was not wholly unprepared to deal with such a situation.

"Is it possible for you to see through Draco's eyes?"

"Yes." As odd as it was for him, Severus wondered what Draco was making of it.

"Then is it also possible for Draco to see through _your_ eyes?"

"Yes," Draco replied, then broke off with a choking sound. "Is this what you see, Fawkes?" he asked, and then after a pause that must have been Fawkes' answer, Draco laughed. "This is going to take some getting used to."

It was a passing curiosity, what it was that Draco was seeing. Severus would have resolved to ask him later, but once they had completed their objective, none of the events leading up to this moment would have happened. Nor would Draco be afforded the opportunity to speak with Fawkes in the manner that he did. Surprisingly, Severus felt a twinge of sorrow at the thought of losing what it was that he had gained with the younger man.

With the wizarding world never in danger, the possibility of the two of them becoming as close as they had was greatly reduced. They would still see each other every day, and their relationships with Harry would always bring the two of them into contact. But the events that had shaped the course of their lives would never come to pass, and what they had learned about themselves and each other would likely never be learned again.

_It always comes back to this_, Severus thought, looking at the dark shape of Draco standing a few feet away. _Time may change. The world may change. But the pain of losing a Malfoy never does. _He wondered, in the vague, habitual way he always wondered these sorts of things, what it was that Lucius would make of it. The man he thought he had known would have understood. The man he had come to know would have laughed. Severus could blame neither one.

"Would it be possible for you to fly ahead, Fawkes?" Severus continued then, the unusual hoarseness of his voice making him pause to clear his throat. "To fly ahead and lend Draco the use of your eyes, that we can navigate successfully through this forest?"

"Yes, I – rather _Fawkes_ – can do that," Draco corrected himself, and in the darkness Severus could see the shadow that was Fawkes rise into the air. "Oh hell… This is going to be awkward."

"Close your eyes," Severus suggested. "It will be easier to focus that way. Stay in front of me, and I shall steady you if you start to fall."

"How'd you know he could see like this?" Draco asked as he wobbled his way to Severus.

"I have no idea what it is that you are seeing right now," Severus corrected him. "However, since Fawkes is a creature of magic, I assumed that darkness would pose no trouble to his ability to see."

"This is going to take forever," Draco muttered, moving in front of Severus, taking an uncertain step forward, and then reaching back to latch onto Severus' arm.

"If this is how you plan on proceeding," Severus muttered darkly as he shook his head. "Then I must agree with you."

Scene Shift

"Think we ought to wait here?" Draco asked as they came to a stop at the edge of the forest.

Severus studied the expanse of open land stretching out around the castle, noting how much easier it was to see without all of the trees obscuring the light from the moon and the stars. It had been easier to see Cate, as she had entered into the castle through a side door, and Severus knew that just as it was easier for them to see, so too would it be for any inside the castle to see them. Not only would crossing the ground between the forest and the castle risk exposing them to any within, it would also make it harder to locate Cate. Better that they remain outside, watching the castle and tracking Cate's movements with the Marauder's Map, than to waste unnecessary time watching out for themselves.

Severus could feel the tension building. It was like a living thing, moving between them and growing larger with each moment that passed. It seemed as if it had taken a lifetime to get to this point, and in some ways, Severus believed that it had. They would set things right, and then they would disappear. Who they were, what they were, all that they had done. It would all be lost. And the doppelgangers that would take their place would know nothing of immeasurable loss and grief. They would know nothing of the difficulty in living in a world that was dead, just as they would know nothing of the bonds that could be forged in such a world.

_I wonder what will change. How much of what we gained will be lost in the world that should have been. Whatever we lose, I hope we are able to get back. _But for all that could potentially be lost, Severus knew he would never halt in his quest to erase what had happened. There were some things more important than personal gain, than personal comfort and happiness. There was life, there was magic, there was unbroken skin and land that had never been scarred. No price was too high for that.

"It's almost over, isn't it?" Hermione asked, glancing sideways at Severus and Draco.

Severus nodded, not quite feeling up to giving her a verbal answer.

"I can't say as I'll miss all this," Draco replied, leaning back against a tree and folding his arms over his chest.

Severus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, trying to judge the veracity of that statement. There was a set to Draco's face that spoke of determination immune to regret. It was too dark to see what was brewing in his hooded eyes.

"No," Hermione agreed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her robe and looking away. "Neither can I."

"What about you, Severus? You going to miss all this?" Draco unfolded an arm long enough to make a sharp, cutting gesture meant to encompass everything that had transpired since the end of the world.

Severus did not intend to dignify that question with a response, and yet, for all his best intentions, found himself saying quietly, "Anything I shall miss can be rebuilt. Better, perhaps, than it was built for us."

Draco looked at him for a long, silence moment, before turning his head toward the castle. Another moment followed, and then Severus did the same.

Scene Shift

It happened faster than Severus had been expecting. Having seen Cate walk into the castle, he was not prepared to see her come streaking out from behind one of the turrets, clinging to a broomstick. She was traveling at a high rate of speed, and almost as soon as she was visible, Cate vanished into the trees.

"What the hell-" Draco began, having caught sight of her at the same time as Severus. The question died on his lips and he whirled around and yelled, "Fawkes!" The phoenix dropped down from the tree above them like a stone, and Draco leaped into the air to meet him, hand outstretched. As his finger made contact with the tip of the bird's talon, they both vanished.

"Draco!" Hermione yelled angrily, but the Slytherin had already disappeared. "Where is he going?"

"The hell if I know," Severus snarled, suddenly angry. They needed to go after her. Although how in the nine hells she had found a broom, much less was managing to ride the damned thing, he did not know. _We were lax in our vigilance. Here is the mistake I knew would happen. _"We are going to have to go back again," he told Hermione, feeling despair begin to eat away at the hope which had taken hold of him. "This time we will-"

"Severus! Hermione! Catch!"

Startled, Severus looked up in time to see Draco shooting overhead on another broomstick. Instinctively, his hand reached out to catch one of the two brooms that the younger man had dropped down to him.

"_Remember, you play this game to catch the Snitch."_

After everything that had transpired, Severus knew that he should not have been the least bit surprised to learn that Albus had deliberately orchestrated that little farce for the sake of chasing down Cate. It should have come as no surprise that the headmaster had known that the Muggle had infiltrated the castle, stolen magical items, and had fled with the intention to revealing the Wizarding world to the Muggle one. Yet still, despite all of the shoulds and the should nots, Severus found himself dumbfounded. It was only momentary, however, and then reflexes honed by years of being a Death Eater snapped into play.

He was not a good flyer – the mock Quidditch game had proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt – but Severus spared no thought to his limitations as he swung up onto the broom and took off after Draco. The thought that he might not be able to control the broom well enough to catch up with Cate never even crossed his mind. His vision had narrowed down to one single goal, and by all the gods, he would see it through.

Severus could hear Draco yelling something, and knew that Cate could probably hear him as well. Whether she heard them now was irrelevant; soon she would _see _them. It would be the last thing she ever saw.

The broom was cutting through the air at its top speed, careening between tree trunks and branches, taking turns so sharply that a lesser man would have been thrown from it. How the others were making out, Severus could not possibly know. Draco would probably be all right, with Fawkes' help. Hermione, however, had neither a phoenix's sight nor a Death Eater's instincts to help her avoid the nearly invisible obstructions the forest contained. Dimly, Severus could see branches looming up before him, could feel the ones that he had not dodged slapping into him. Yet his grip did not loosen, and his speed did not abate. If anything was broken, he could not feel the pain.

_I will bring you back. Nothing shall stop you from walking this world once more. And for as long as I draw breath, I promise you that nothing shall ever take you away again._

The frantic chase through the trees could have lasted one minute or thirty. Time had lost its meaning in the blinding darkness and the deafening howl of the wind. Making another impossible turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with a tree, Severus caught up with her.

It was more a sense of presence than actual sight: it was too dark and he was moving too fast to see anything with any clarity. But she was there, just the same. Her broom was not moving as quickly as it had been, and the Death Eater within him could feel her weariness and terror. She knew something was chasing her, but she did not know what it was. A dark, unpleasant smile twisted the corners of Severus' lips.

As he brought the broomstick closer to hers, Severus felt another presence heading toward him. Draco. From further away, he thought that he felt Hermione.

_It ends._

The burst of magic left him without any conscious decision. There were no words, nor any predetermined outcome. There was just power that slammed into the Muggle and knocked her from the broom. A streak of red passed by his eyes, and as he brought his broom to a halt, Severus saw that it was Fawkes, clutching the girl's arm in a talon and lowering her to the ground. She was not moving. As he descended to the ground, Severus sincerely hoped that he had not killed her. It had happened far too quickly. For the pain she had caused, Severus wanted to take his time, ripping the life from her as slowly as she had ripped it from the world.

Touching down next to her body, Severus took out his wand, muttered a quiet "Lumos" and saw that she was breathing. _Unconscious, then. Excellent._

"What are we going to do with her?" Draco asked, landing at Severus' side.

Severus turned to him, about to reply, until a look at Draco's face caused the words to die in his throat. There was intense hatred in his eyes, mingled with a bloodlust Severus had only seen in the eyes of the most depraved of the Death Eaters. But there was also restraint, and just the smallest bit of sorrow.

_What in the nine hells is that for?_ Severus wondered, strangely unable to form the words needed to ask. And then such questions were unnecessary, as the memories washed over him. A young man, grinning up at him as he introduced his closest friends. The same young man, head bent close to a young woman, the two of them laughing at some unfathomable joke. A young man whose life was a litany of loss and loneliness. A young man who only wanted to be accepted, but because of what he was, such acceptance was not possible. A young man who had found what he had been searching for, in a country beyond the ocean, in a world that did not belong to him.

It was then that Severus knew he could never kill Cate.

"I will erase her memories."

"_What_?" The objection came not from Draco, as Severus had expected, but from Hermione who had just joined them.

"I will take away her memories of this night," Severus repeated, without looking at her.

"Are you insane?" Hermione asked, grabbing his arm and jerking him around to face her. "She killed _Harry_, Severus! Because of her everyone we know died! And you want to erase her memories?"

"You are telling me nothing that I do not already know," Severus said calmly, refusing to add to the volatile situation.

"Then _why_ are you letting her go?"

"I had never thought of you as the vengeful sort, Hermione."

"I can't forgive what she's done. She's as bad as Voldemort!"

"She is worse," Draco said quietly. "Voldemort hated Muggles and wanted to free us from our fear of being discovered by them. He knew we were stronger, and he hated that we cowered before them. What she did, she did out of petty jealousy."

"_Malfoy_ agrees with me, Severus! Why the hell don't you?"

"No, Hermione," Draco corrected her. "I don't."

"What?" she looked back and forth between them in astonishment and betrayal.

"Don't get me wrong," Draco explained with a defeated shrug. "I'd like nothing more than to blast her with the Killing Curse. But I can't do it anymore than Severus can."

"Why not?"

"Because she was once Harry's friend," Severus told her.

"And she killed him, Severus! Maybe not directly, but her actions killed him just the same as if she had pulled the trigger."

"But Potter never knew that," Draco objected.

The sorrow in his eyes had told Severus that Draco understood, but his words confirmed that understanding.

Cate had grievously injured their world. She had killed their friends and the people they loved. But in a few minutes time, none of that would have happened. Better that Harry never grieve for a lost friend, better that he never feel the regret and guilt at losing someone with whom he had been unable to reconcile, than the three of them exact vengeance on the one who had hurt them.

Severus had had his fill of vengeance.

And so it was – with that simple realization – that the Death Eater within him finally died. It was a slow, unremarkable death, hardly benefiting the one who was once Voldemort's right hand. But for Severus, it was the falling away of one of the shackles which had bound him for nearly three-quarters of his life. It was freedom.

"Soon, no one will know that any of this ever happened. Do you really believe that the woman who will take your place will want to watch her closest friend grieve? Do you want Harry to experience the loss that we have felt? Is your anger worth that price?" Severus asked Hermione.

She was silent for a long time. And when she shook her head, Severus thought he saw the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. "No. I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"Then let it end now."

When she nodded, Severus glanced at Draco.

"You're better at that sort of thing," Draco replied to the unspoken question, the corner of his lip quirked in something that wasn't really a smile.

_The dawn of which you were speaking comes, Albus. I look forward to the man who will be me meeting the man who will be you. I hope that pleases you._

What he did then was more than a simple _obliviate_. It would not do to simply lock away the memories or erase them, for such things had a way of returning regardless of the mastery the caster had with the spell. Since it began in New York, Severus started there. With painstaking precision – drawing upon his own impeccable memory – he altered bits here and there, restructuring the imprints in Cate's mind so that what she would recall upon waking would not be the obsession that had destroyed a world, but merely a fleeting crush on someone new. Severus wiped away the antagonism the girl felt for Harry, and left within her mind the thought that if she wanted to repair the gulf between them, all she would need to do was let Harry know.

When he had worked his way to the present, Severus fabricated a different chain of events, allowing enough of the truth to permeate the false memories so that they would not be rejected. Upon returning to her room, Cate realized that she had left her jacket with Kevin and Ben. Though it crossed her mind to return for it, she decided instead to just go to sleep. It had been a long night and the alcohol in her veins had made her drowsy. She wouldn't have need of it until the morning, and it would be safe in Ben and Kevin's care. When she fell asleep, Cate dreamt of wizards and castles, and other such fictions of the Muggle world.

"We will return her to her room," Severus explained when he had finished altering her memory. "When she awakens in the morning, she will feel slightly hung-over, but she will remember nothing of this day, her feelings for me, or her jealousy of Harry."

"What should we do with all of that?" Draco asked, gesturing to the small pile he had gathered of the magical items Cate had collected from the castle. The brooms they had ridden had been added as an afterthought.

"_Incendio_!"

They both turned to Hermione in surprise.

"It was all lost, right?" she asked, unapologetically as the flames rose and sparked around her. "Well, now it really is. And no one will use it against us."

"A truly excellent decision," Severus told her. "Now then, if Fawkes would be so kind as to transport us back to that hotel, we might be able to return before Harry's friends do."

Scene Shift

"Are we ready for this?" Draco asked, looking at Hermione and Severus as they stood together on the grounds of Hogwarts. Fawkes had resumed his customary perch on Draco's shoulder. They had returned Cate to her bed, and there she laid asleep, all evidence of the night's work gone as if it had never happened.

"Let's go home," Hermione said, giving Draco a genuine smile.

What does one say to those who are about to give up their lives for the lives of others? Nothing Severus could think of was sufficient to express how proud he felt of them both, and of how much he would miss them. When he met Draco's eyes, he saw that any words he could voice were unnecessary. Draco knew how he felt, and when he looked to Hermione, he saw the understanding in her eyes as well.

"Yes," Severus inclined his head. "Let us go home."

He looked down at the Time Turner in his hands. "Return us to the time we left. Take us home."

Severus was looking into Draco's eyes, as he flipped the Time Turner. So it was the widening of Draco's eyes, as the world bled into light and then resolved itself, that caused the trickle of ice to run down his spine. There was an emotion in those eyes that he had only ever seen once before. Something that _he_ – the man who had seen the world die – had seen. And as he turned around, Severus realized that they had not gone home.

"Name of all the gods…"


	10. Chapter 10: Through the Glass, Darkly

Chapter 10: Through the Glass, Darkly

When he had stood before the blasted earth that had once housed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Draco thought that he would never see anything so horrifying in all of his life. The devastated wreckage of his life, culminated in a barren wasteland of emptiness and pain. It had ripped through him, cutting to pieces parts of himself that he never knew existed before they had been rent asunder. The image was burned into his very existence, and he knew it would haunt him through the remainder of his days.

There was a certain sense of relief, as Severus had overturned the Time Turner. To have that memory obliterated, to be free of the aching in his heart, to know that the day would come when he would close his eyes one last time, to never experience the loss of those he held dear. To be unchained from the burdens he had never wanted to carry.

It was a relief. It was also incredibly painful.

Nothing came without a price. There were no gains that came without loss, no happiness without sorrow. There was no life without death. All he had come to know, all that he was, sacrificed and wiped away. He could not mourn for his immediate self, but he did mourn for his other self: the one who would likely never know the depth of his capacity to feel, the unfaltering determination he could bring to bear, and just how strong he could be, if such strength was needed. He couldn't help but feel, completely without arrogance, that the Draco Malfoy who would rise in his place would be the type of spoiled, worthless git for which he had never cared.

But flip the Time Turner Severus had, and Draco had looked on with mingled relief and regret, waiting for the moment when consciousness ceased. The colors had dissolved into light, yet the darkness and unknowing did not come. The light had faded, resolving into a place and time, and still he continued to know and remember. The confusion and fear began to mount in his mind, declaiming their failure. And then he had seen what it was that lay beyond Severus, acknowledged what it was that his senses had been trying to tell him since they had arrived, and the horror he had believed unmatchable paled against the chilling, creeping terror that fell over him.

Dawn was approaching and the sky was lightening, the deep black they had seen all night giving way to a muted grey. In the dim light, Draco could see the castle beyond the line of trees in front of him. He could see a stretch of the grounds, the beginning of the Forbidden Forest, and the edge of the lake. He wished that he could not.

Gone were the graceful towers of the castle. Instead, it had become a twisted, misshapen thing, sprawling over the grounds like a malignant tumor. There were wings branching off from the main body of the castle that Draco had never seen and towers rising crookedly in spaces that had always been empty, while places that Draco remembered were gone, worked over with stone in some places, simply demolished in others. As the light got brighter, the shadows on the castle remained. At first it was puzzling, until Draco realized that they were not shadows at all, but scorch marks that only magical fire could have caused.

The vibrant green grass of the lawn was gone as well. In most places the earth was bare. In others, brown, withered weeds remained, the long dead roots still tangled in the soil. And what trees dotted the landscape were stunted things, blackened and gnarled.

Always slightly sinister, the Forbidden Forest had become a wall of inky darkness that seemed to repel the light. The trees had grown taller, though their color had darkened to black and their leaves had fallen off. There was a sense of foreboding emanating from the trees that was unlike anything Draco had ever felt from the Forest. If it had been unsettling before, it was downright deadly now. Nearby, the lake remained an oily splotch on the ground, and Draco had a suspicion that even were the sun to shine at its brightest, the lake would only reflect it back.

It felt like he had spent an eternity longing for a glimpse of the castle that would not be marred with the knowledge of impending destruction. They had done what they had set out to do; they had found the source of their world's collapse and they had stopped it from beginning. Now that he was getting the glimpse he had desired so badly, Draco found himself wanting nothing more than to close his eyes against it.

Yet that was not the worst of it. Worse than the grotesque parody of his home was the magic with which it was imbued. Before the Muggle-led war, the magic of Hogwarts had been alive and whole. It wove its way into everything on the grounds, enhancing all that it touched and exuding a feeling of comfort and peace. Following the war, there was only emptiness. The magic was gone and what was left behind was nothing more than dead, cold earth. Now there was magic again, wrapping around the trees and flowing through the ground. But it was a dark, poisonous thing, malicious and cruel, that prickled the flesh and whispered horrors at the edge of the conscious mind. It spoke to the primordial part of Draco's psyche, to the fear of the dark and what it contained, and it promised that what it would reveal would be far more terrifying than his darkest imaginings.

"Name of all the gods…" Severus' barely audible oath brought Draco back to himself and shifted his focus to his companions.

Hermione's face was ashen, her eyes wide and staring. It was difficult to tell in the wan light, but Draco thought he could see her shaking. He believed that he understood why. If he concentrated on it, the whispering of the magic filled his mind, promising pain and torment. When his attention was diverted away from it, the horrible promises faded until all that remained was a sense of presence, like a hovering cloud of nightmarish moths brushing at his mind with greasy, slime-covered wings: too fleeting to catch, yet too immediate to completely ignore. From her expression, Draco guessed that Hermione was concentrating on it a bit too much.

Reaching over, Draco grabbed her upper arm and gave her a shake. "Hey! Hermione look at me."

Hermione jerked as if startled, but when she fixed her eyes on Draco's own, he was relieved to see that the blind panic was starting to drain out of them.

"Don't listen to it," Draco told her. "If you ignore it, it gets easier to deal with."

"It feeds off of your fear," Severus added, joining the conversation. Draco turned to look at him and to his surprise he saw none of horror that he knew was clearly visible on his own face. Instead he saw recognition, and somehow, that was far more disturbing than anything else he could have seen in Severus' eyes. "The more you succumb to it, the greater its power becomes, until you cease fighting against it and allow it to overwhelm you."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, shifting to face him. "Some kind of spell?"

Aware that he was still holding onto her arm, Draco quickly let go.

Severus shook his head, his eyes moving to look at the castle. "Magic is like a mirror; it has no intent, no nature that is either good or evil. It just is. But as it encounters things in this world – people, places, events – it reflects that with which it comes into contact. The longer the contact lasts, the stronger the reflection becomes. The school was created with a specific purpose, and the magic around it came to represent that purpose. The presence of the headmasters, each of whom became a part of the castle and the experience that is Hogwarts, added to that purpose, enriched it and further defined it until it became what you are used to associating with the school. The stronger the headmaster, the greater the influence has been on the magic."

_We change what we touch._

It was a fact of life with which Draco was becoming intimately acquainted.

_That's how you changed Dumbledore, isn't it Fawkes?_ Draco asked the phoenix. Fawkes had not taken flight when they had returned to this time that was not their own, instead choosing to remain perched on Draco's shoulder. He couldn't blame him for that; he wouldn't have wanted to fly up into these trees either. _That's how you'll change me._

'_Yes. I told you that Severus was wise, did I not?'_

_You weren't telling me anything I didn't already know, so you're not getting any credit for being right._

"You know what happened here, don't you Severus?" Draco asked softly.

"I do not know the events that led to this," Severus responded, making a short gesture that encompassed the grounds. "But I do know the cause."

The three of them looked at each other in silence. Nothing else needed to be said. With those six words, Severus had confirmed their worst fear; they had woken from the nightmare, only to find that reality was far worse.

With a shake of her head, Hermione broke the silence. "This doesn't make any sense. We prevented Cate from exposing our world; when we went back, we should have emerged in a world where that hadn't happened. _This_ wasn't our world before Cate exposed it."

"And she's an American Muggle," Draco added, for once in his life in full agreement with Hermione. "That's two marks against her if you're going to suggest that they're connected somehow. Can't imagine Tall, Sickly, and Psychotic joining forces with some American Muggle."

It was a testament to how deeply ingrained fear of him was that after all they'd been through, they still danced around the issue of saying his name. Superstitions were stupid, and it galled Draco that such a thing had so much power over them. Were it not for the feeling that to speak his name now really would bring his attention down upon them, Draco would have defied that fear, would have said his name as dismissively as he said the names of everyone else. But the trees seemed to be listening, almost as if they were waiting for those three syllables to be given voice, and though he could see no one, Draco could sense that they were being watched.

"There must be a connection," Severus disagreed quietly, studying the Time Turner for a moment before raising his eyes to focus on Draco and Hermione. "Thus far, we have encountered no problems with the Time Turner. It is asking too much to believe that it chose _now_ to malfunction."

"No, Malfoy's right. They-" Hermione's voice died mid-sentence and her eyes widened in fear. All around them the trees began to stir, branches twisting as if they were caught in a gale. But the air was still, without even a hint of a breeze.

"What is it?" Draco asked as he withdrew his wand and whirled around, expecting to be attacked. There was nothing there. No shadowy presence lurked within the trees, and no monstrosity was rearing up behind him.

Yet the trees continued to thrash as if even they were afraid. And on the edge of his mind, Draco heard the magic whispering unintelligible gibberish.

"I do not know," Severus murmured quietly as he looked around, wand at the ready. "However, I can assure you that it is not him."

"How can you be sure?" Hermione asked, watching the castle warily.

Severus held up his forearm and pushed the sleeve back far enough for them to see the Dark Mark standing out vividly against his pale skin. "I would feel him."

_Well, that's not the least bit comforting_, Draco thought grimly. It was all very well and good that they were not about to be confronted with the Dark Lord in all of his insane, murderous glory. However, the fact that the Dark Lord was alive, and thus able to confront them in the first place, rather diminished any sense of relief Draco could have felt at Severus' words. _How much worse can all of this get?_

'_I can show you.'_

Draco cocked his head so that he could look at Fawkes out of the corner of his eye. _That was one of those rhetorical questions, Fawkes. I really don't want to know what's worse than all this._

'_You misunderstand me. I can show you what it is that the trees fear.'_

_Do I really want to know?_ Draco asked, recognizing as he did so that that was also rhetorical.

'_Do you wish to know what has happened here?'_

Ask a stupid question... _Yes._

Viewing the world through the eyes of the phoenix was an experience unlike any Draco had ever had. The human mind made comparisons and judgments; it filtered the world into manageable perceptions, giving structure to chaos so that the information gathered by the senses could be easily processed and understood. Fawkes saw the world as it was. There were no perceptions, no explanations or beliefs. There was only truth.

The human mind, Draco knew, was never meant to understand the truth. It was not capable of that, anymore than it was capable of knowing the color of magic. But when he entered the mind of the phoenix and looked through unfettered eyes, Draco could see what his eyes had never been able to see. He knew the truth. And very clearly, he saw the color of magic.

In the roiling fires of Fawkes' mind, the lines of light and power coalesced into something Draco recognized as a room inside the castle. With a bit of searching, he discerned the shape of a man standing before a mirror. It was difficult to see, to make sense of things his brain was not capable of understanding, but Draco felt a nagging sense of familiarity as he stared at the man's back. Something about him, the aura of malicious hatred, the way that he stood, the length of his hair… Recognition came at last. It was his father, alive and well within Hogwarts. Draco was already pulling back from Fawkes, intent on warning the others, when the man turned around and Draco realized that he wasn't looking at his father at all.

Draco tore himself out of Fawkes' mind, disturbed by what he had seen and not wishing to look on it any longer than necessary. _Not me!_ A small voice was screaming in the back of his mind. _That was not me! _But it was, and all of the denial in the world wasn't going to change that. He wasn't aware of how hard he was breathing until he felt a hand grip his arm and shake him out of his daze.

"Draco," Severus was saying, peering into his face intently. "What is it?"

He tried to meet Severus' eyes, but all Draco could see were the trees, bending away from him.

'_Now you understand what it was that your father was grooming you to become.'_

Everything he would have been, had Voldemort won the war.

He had seen the disfigured landscape, had felt the touch of the diseased magic, and had seen the Dark Mark gleaming on Severus' arm. On a cognitive level, Draco had known what that meant. But that sort of knowing wasn't certainty; wasn't nearly enough to eradicate the belief that this was all just a mistake, some sort of dream from which he would surely awaken. In the end, it was a moment's look into eyes glittering with sadistic malice that made it all real; for Draco to feel it in the very core of his being. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, Voldemort had won.

_We need to know how it happened, _Draco thought, staring past Severus to the castle behind him. _We can't stop this from happening if we don't know what caused it._ There was no question in his mind that it needed to be stopped. They hadn't come all this way, through the death of their world, to leave it in the grasp of Voldemort. They needed answers, and much as he would have liked there to be another option, Fawkes had shown him the way to get them.

_Will you protect them? If I leave them here, will you see that they don't come to harm?_

'_Would it not be better for me to come with you?'_

_You can't. That castle is going to be heavily warded. And for all that you're made of magic, I doubt even you'd be able to get in there undetected. _

There was no phoenix in that place. He didn't know what sort of magic would be needed to kill a phoenix, to unravel the creature's ability to resurrect itself, but Draco instinctively knew that Voldemort had done so. Fawkes had been the symbol of Albus Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord was too insecure in his power to allow any such reminders of the wizard to exist. As a psychological weapon, it was awfully ineffective. Had he been in Voldemort's place, Draco would have made a point to leave them; after all, there was nothing worse for the subjugated and downtrodden than to constantly be reminded of better times, to never be free of the cycle of false hope and despair.

A tendril of nausea curled in his stomach; the knowledge that he could not only identify Voldemort's mistakes but also improve upon them made him ill. It went to show how very thin the line was that separated who he was from the man inside the castle. _But for the vagaries of war, I would be wearing the Dark Mark now._

'_You do not give yourself enough credit.'_

Credit for what? Draco shot back, disgusted with himself now more than he had ever been. Being a coward and throwing my lot in with the winning side is hardly something for which I should be proud. That's me up there, Fawkes. Those were my eyes!

'You gaze for long in the wrong direction, Draco,' Fawkes replied, unfurling his wings. Feathers brushed against the side of Draco's face and ruffled his hair, the sensation very much like a draft of warm air. 'You cannot find the answers you seek at the bottom of the abyss.'

Draco frowned, momentarily forgetting about Severus and Hermione and the twisted caricature of his home. What are you talking about?

'All that ever was, and all that will ever be, is written in the sand behind you.'

He thought he understood, in that instant when the words burnt their way into his mind. But the understanding faded with the fire, and all that remained was the cold, empty darkness that was left whenever the light receded. He could have asked for clarification, though he was aware that such a thing was unlikely to be forthcoming. If there was even a remote possibility that he would puzzle out the answer on his own, the phoenix would not explain. Draco had accepted that now, just as he accepted the fact that Fawkes was the greatest teacher he had ever had.

I will take your words to heart, Draco promised solemnly. And then, because some things never change, no matter what becomes of the world, he added, Just as soon as I figure out what the bloody hell you're on about.

In the ensuing pause, Draco could hear the crackle of flames, banking and flaring as if caught in the same non-existent gale as the trees around them. With the trees, it was ominous and unsettling. With Fawkes, it was the only sign of laughter Draco could recognize. 'I will keep them safe.'

The matter decided, Draco focused on Severus and Hermione. In a matter of expediency, there was nothing more aggravating than someone who insisted on stating the obvious. Now, it was the fear, and the avoidance of the issue, that rankled. Draco was done being afraid. "He won the war."

Severus simply nodded. There was no fear in his eyes, just weary resignation and a hurt so deep it cracked the surface of the icy armor he had used for so long to keep the world at bay. It was one more wound on a heart already tattered and scarred.

_It will not end like this,_ Draco vowed for what must have been the hundredth time. _I promise you, Severus. Whatever it takes, I will not let it end like this._

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked, when it became apparent that Draco and Severus weren't going to say anything else.

The question roused Severus from wherever he had gone. "We will find out when. We will find out how. And then we will stop it." There was the same steely determination in his voice that had always been there, but the iron-strength was starting to weaken, and Draco could hear the beginnings of hopelessness.

"We've got to get into the castle," Hermione began, already formulating a plan that would undoubtedly work if they followed through with it. "So first, we'll have to-"

"_We_ aren't going anywhere," Draco interrupted, not wanting to waste time on developing a plan they would never carry out. "The only one of us going into the castle is me. You two are going to stay out here with Fawkes, where it's safer. Theoretically, anyway."

Hermione stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Have you gone daft? You don't know what's in there!"

_Not entirely accurate there, Hermione. _"I know that _you're_ not," Draco retorted sharply. "I don't know how all this came to be, but after all these years I know _you, _Hermione. I know you were there, fighting at his side as you always have been. And I know-" His voice cracked, the words lodging in his rapidly constricting throat. But they needed to be said, and Draco forced them out in a voice that sounded as if it had been shredded by broken glass. "I know he _lost_. After everything, he fell. _And so did you._ Maybe before. Maybe after. But you died in that battle. And if you walk into that castle now, you will die again."

For a moment, Hermione gave him a level, emotionless stare. Then she hit him. The blow was so hard and so unexpected that he stumbled back and probably would have fallen if not for Severus' steadying hand on his back. Fawkes, displaced by the staggering and not wanting to touch the trees, chose Severus' shoulder as his new perch.

"Right, guess I deserved that," Draco muttered, as he regained his footing and twisted back around to face her. There was blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth. He ignored it.

The emotionless stare was gone now. In its place were blazing, furious eyes. "You bastard," Hermione hissed, taking a step closer and closing the gap between them. "How dare you?"

"Hit me again, if it'll make you feel better," Draco said with quiet sincerity. "Hit me until you can accept it. But you know I'm speaking the truth."

"And that makes it all right?" she demanded, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt and jerking him down until his eyes were level with hers.

Unperturbed by her anger, Draco leaned forward. "It's not for you to die for him," he whispered in her ear. "Your place is at his side, where it's always been. I'm sorry, Hermione, but you've got to be alive for that."

"What about you?" she returned, and though her voice was subdued, it had lost none of its anger.

There were a dozen different answers he could have given her; so many words to say exactly the same thing. Some were flippant and others serious; each and every one was sincere. But there was only one answer he could voice. So he inclined his head, touched his forehead to hers, and delivered it with all of the dignity and formality the last scion of a centuries' old family possessed. "_Morituri te salutamus_."

"Don't," she whispered, the anger draining out of her eyes as she translated the Latin. "Please don't. I can't take losing you, too."

They were teetering precariously close to the edge of melancholy's bleak precipice, and Draco knew that there wouldn't be any coming back if they slipped. "Can't have you saying stuff like that," he drawled, giving her the smarmiest grin he was capable of producing. "People'd think we were friends or something. Be a right shame to waste all that bitter rivalry and hatred, don't you think?"

At his most insufferable, Draco knew that he was impossible to take seriously. And from the way Hermione smiled in spite of the way she was going all wobbly, he knew that was still the case even after the world had gone to hell. "Don't be so stupid," she said, finally relinquishing her grasp on his shirt. As he straightened back up, she threw her arms around him. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry for hitting you!"

Over the top of her head, Draco met Severus' eyes in mute appeal. _Little help here_, he thought, hoping that Severus could read the panic on his face. Apparently he could, for he just cocked an eyebrow in Draco's direction and smirked. Draco scowled back.

"S'okay," Draco attempted for reassuring and got discomforted squeak for his trouble. "Might want to tighten your grip a bit more, Hermione. I can still get enough air to wheeze."

She let go immediately, stepping back with a look of chagrin. "Really Draco, I _am_ sorry. I don't know why I did that."

Free at last, Draco shrugged dismissively and wiped at the blood on his face. It was drying now, making him have to scrub to get it off. "No worries. If you bottle that up for too long, it turns into poison. I'd really rather you hit me, if it means you won't turn bitter and cold."

Hermione shook her head. "No, that isn't-"

"Let it be, Hermione," Draco cut her off gently. "Besides, this isn't exactly the place for heartfelt explorations of our thoughts and feelings." He looked back and forth between her and Severus. "If care-and-share is over, I'd best be on my way. Sooner I find out what's happened, the sooner we're out of here and fixing it. Right?"

Hermione nodded, even though she looked miserable about doing so.

"No," Severus disagreed, surprising them both. "It is too dangerous for you to go alone."

Draco hadn't been expecting opposition from Severus. Of them all, Severus should have been the most reckless, the one most willing to do whatever it took to bring Harry and the world back. He should _not_ have been objecting to what was possibly the best plan Draco had ever had. "What? You're going to leave Hermione out here by herself?"

"I'm not a child!" Hermione snapped, the insult to her ability to take care of herself causing the anger to flare up again.

"No, you're not," Draco agreed, and then turned to Severus to repeat himself. "And no, _you're_ not. Decades ago, you might have been the worst of them. But you're not anymore, and chances are pretty damn high that you weren't in this world either. If your counterpart was anything like you, he fought on the losing side and died out there with everyone else."

Unlike Hermione, Severus made no move to strike him. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes. "Hermione was right; we have no idea what the castle holds. The risk to you if you go alone is far too great."

"Too great?" Draco repeated in disbelief. "What bleeding difference does it make whether I die in there or not? When we turn this world back to normal, _we_ won't even _be_ here. So I might go out a little sooner than expected. So what?"

"I will not lose you to-"

"You will lose _Harry_, Severus!" Draco interrupted angrily, trying to return the man's focus to the reason they were here in the first place. "Unless we set this right, you will lose him. To the Muggles, to the Dark Lord; he will be lost either way if we don't figure this thing out." Severus was opening his mouth to speak, but Draco would let him have none of it. "I appreciate the concern, Severus. Truly I do. But I've had all the years of my life to get used to meaning nothing to everyone. So don't you dare start giving a damn about my life now! Not when you'd put everything that matters in jeopardy because of it."

Severus was silent for a moment. There were emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes that Draco couldn't name. It didn't matter anyway. There was no argument Severus could make that would change his mind. "Draco," Severus began slowly.

"I'm in there, Severus," Draco pointed a finger at the castle. "Fawkes lent me the use of his eyes and I saw me, alive and well and strutting around like I own the place. It won't matter if anyone sees me because I'm already there. I can get in, and I can get the information we need. The two of you will only slow me down and increase the chance of getting caught."

Like with everything else in his life, this outpouring of concern was coming at precisely the worst possible moment for it. It would have been fantastic had it come ten years ago, when he had been doing all sorts of stupid things for the sake of acknowledgement. It hadn't mattered, that late in the game, whether the feelings his presence engendered in others were positive or negative. Just so long as he was the cause of them; so long as it was his life, leaving a mark on the life of someone else. All he had ever wanted was to matter; to be something other than his father's shadow and his mother's trophy, to be seen for _who_ he was instead of _what_ he was. But that had never happened, and now hardly seemed the appropriate time for belated sentimentality.

"I've got to try," Draco told them flatly. "It won't take long; I'm guessing two hours at the most. And I'll stay in contact with Fawkes so that if something happens, he'll be able to let you know somehow." _If something happens to me, Fawkes, bond with Hermione and pass along the information that I was able to gather. Between the two of you, you should be able to come up with a plan._ Hermione would be more suited to being Fawkes' companion than him anyway. After all, _she_ was the one with the brain and the thirst for knowledge.

'_You should not go into a battle expecting to lose.'_

_I'm not expecting anything, Fawkes. I'm making provisions. There's a difference._

For a moment, there was only the crackle of fire. When Fawkes spoke, it was with solemn sincerity. '_I will do what needs to be done.'_

That the promise was intentionally vague and noncommittal about a course of action was a fact not lost on Draco. But instead of pressing the phoenix for agreement to what he had suggested, Draco chose to just nod his acceptance. It wasn't as if he was planning on getting himself killed anyway.

"Are there any more arguments you'd like to raise?" Draco asked, glancing at Severus and Hermione. "Because I'd really like get this over with. The less time we spend in this place, the better."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue. There was a mule-headed glint in her eyes that Draco had always associated with her stubborn refusal to leave well enough alone. It was the same look he had seen when she had been trying to foist SPEW badges off on unsuspecting classmates. And it was what he'd seen the moment before she'd punched him, all those years ago on the grounds overlooking Hagrid's hut. But she just shook her head, somehow managing to look both thoroughly miserable and furiously angry.

There was anger in Severus' dark eyes as well, but Draco understood the older man well enough to know that it was directed inward, at Severus' frustrated inability to take the risks upon himself and spare Draco the task of playing double agent. Beneath the anger, where it was hidden from those who didn't know how to find it, Draco could detect a sliver of fear. Yet Severus said nothing more; instead he simply held Draco's gaze with his own, and by doing so, said far more than mere words would have been capable.

Though maintaining eye contact was hard, it was harder still for Draco to break it. It should not have been so difficult to do, but he had grown accustomed to life being other than what it should have been and was hardly surprised. In fact, he imagined that it was rather like what Potter had felt standing before the Mirror of Erised; looking at what he had longed for all his life and knowing that he had no choice but to walk away from it.

_You'd better be out there somewhere, and you'd better be deliriously happy. Because if I've gone through all of this for nothing, I'm going to be sorely put out_, Draco thought peevishly, wrenching his eyes away from Severus. It was pathetic, idealistic nonsense, but ever since Severus had told him about his childhood beliefs, Draco had been giving far too much credence to the possibility of another version of himself; a happier, less dysfunctional Draco Malfoy who wasn't perpetually cast as the one standing outside the circle. Now that he'd caught a glimpse of this world's malicious, cruelly distorted Draco, the idea of a more pleasant life seemed a lot less pathetic. It also seemed possible, regardless of how convincingly experience had taught him that the world preferred misery and pain to peace and happiness.

Draco started forward, only to pause after a few steps. "If Fawkes tells you to go," he warned them severely, glancing back over his shoulder, "_Go_. There won't be anything left to save." Then he turned and continued on toward the castle. He didn't look back again.

Scene Shift

"_To survive in this world, Draco, you must learn how to conceal yourself within plain sight of your enemies. They are all around you – some wishing only to see misfortune befall you, while others seek your death – and if you are to evade them, you must become them. Learn to wrap society around you like a cloak, become the world in which you walk so that none find your presence threatening until you wish it to be. Lie with the truth. Reflect everything. Give nothing back." _

As he walked across the grounds, Draco recalled the undesired advice of his father and allowed himself a cold, humorless smile. If he only knew how his dubious wisdom was being put to use, Draco had a feeling that Lucius would be rolling in his well-deserved grave. _The irony of this is not lost on me, father._ _Your greatest hope has become your greatest disappointment; it's such a shame you can't see it for yourself._ Such sentiment was petty and beneath him, but Draco didn't care. As far as he was concerned, the man deserved it.

Lucius Malfoy had spent many years attempting to fashion his son into the perfect successor to his position as Voldemort's right hand. Having never aspired to anything greater than the ruler of the world's second-in-command, it had not entered into Lucius' mind that Draco might not be content with the status of an underling. That instead of teaching him how to be a servile toady, he should have been teaching him how to be a leader. However, even if Lucius had thought it beneficial to groom Draco to someday overthrow the Dark Lord, Voldemort himself would have intervened, most likely fatally, and put a stop to it. For his own part, Draco had absorbed the lessons that he'd seen the wisdom in and feigned acceptance of the ones that he rejected. Now he brought each one out from the depths in which he had stored them, weaving them together into an impenetrable mask that slid over him with disturbing ease. It should have been ill-fitting; a nauseating and distasteful affair that made his skin crawl with disgust. But it wrapped around him like a second skin, suppressing who he had become these last years as if that had been the true mask all along.

He should have been afraid. What he was doing was incredibly dangerous; perhaps the most dangerous thing he would ever do, considering how quickly he was approaching the end of life as he would know it. To work against the Dark Lord and entertain the possibility of daring to confront him was hazardous enough that the majority of the Wizarding world, while not agreeing with his tactics and philosophy, had chosen to stand idly by and allow him to come to power instead of trying to stop him. To walk into his domain at the height of his power with little-to-no knowledge of how his reign had come to pass or the layout of his stronghold was veritable suicide. Yet as he walked across the grounds and approached the castle, Draco was only mildly surprised to find that he felt no fear. He was a dead man already, had been since this whole nightmare began, and with each minute that knowledge grew, spreading out from his subconscious like a glacier, plowing over residual cells of self-preservation and burying them beneath the weight of surety.

_Better to die on one's feet than live an eternity on one's knees_, Draco thought, smiling with bleak humor as he twisted the old axiom to suit his own deplorable situation. Despite having everything handed to him as a child, Draco had always hung precariously on the verge of self-destruction. It had been the only way to cope with the place his family had created for him in the world; a prison with walls constructed out of the fear of others, and chains forged of tradition and greed. Watching the world die, coupled with the subsequent need to revert back to what he had been, brought that trait to the forefront of his personality once again and filled him not with terror, but with dark anticipation. If he was to die this day, Draco had every intention to taking the whole damn castle with him.

He met with no opposition upon reaching the entrance to the castle, and there was no one awaiting him when he stepped inside. Sparing only a quick, disinterested glance around, Draco started forward, moving with a determined pace completely at odds with the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. The interior bore no resemblance to the one that Draco had known, making him feel as if he had just walked into an entirely different place. Where there had been doorways branching off to other wings, there was now only an empty hallway, stretching out into the gloom. Gone were the decorations with which he had been familiar; no longer did the portraits and paintings adorn the walls, the antiques that had furnished the more heavily trafficked parts of the castle had disappeared, and torches flickered in iron sconces where candles had once provided light.

_Fools_, Draco thought with disdain, choosing the first stairway that looked vaguely like something he _might_ have seen once before and starting his ascent to the second floor. _So eager to erase the previous inhabitants that they discard the amenities that would have made this place tolerable._ The dank, slightly fetid air was hazy with the smoke from the torches. The hallways were gloomy and far too dark. Draco assumed that he was supposed to feel suitably awed; instead all he felt was annoyed. Here was yet another example of how the Dark Lord had missed the point. _This is the man the Wizarding world fears. A little power and they bow down like craven Muggles. No vision. No finesse. Just power. And you, father, are the worst of the lot. This world could have been yours, yet you allowed yourself to be cowed by a man with the mentality of a child. Perhaps it is _I _who should be ashamed of _you.

It was so very easy to kindle the hatred; it was the foundation upon which he had built his life. Hatred of his family, who had stolen his childhood and tried to make him become something he had no desire to be. Hatred of the Dark Lord, who had the power to make the world right and instead had plunged it into darkness for the sake of his petty vengeance. Hatred of the Muggles, who despite their weakness, the Wizarding world feared. And hatred of himself, for being unable to do anything about the numerous things that had gone wrong in his life. In this world of the Dark Lord's making, hatred was power, and that was precisely what Draco required. He allowed it to flow through him now, watching impassively as it consumed the last vestige of himself that was appalled by the way in which he had so easily slipped back into his former self.

Walking openly through the castle as if he had every right to be there, Draco knew he ought to be afraid of being seen. His robes were tattered, his hair unkempt, and he made no effort to conceal the scar that stood out so vividly against his skin. Anyone with the slightest bit of sense would take one look at him and know that he did not belong; Draco Malfoy _never_ went out in public looking like a disheveled vagabond. But the hallways were empty; Draco assumed that the majority of the inhabitants were still asleep. And even if they hadn't been, he doubted that it would have made much difference.

Fatalism, when used in the proper setting, could be surprisingly useful.

Time seemed to pass slowly, as Draco moved through the castle, searching out stairways that would take him ever higher. He had given up relying on his memory of the castle shortly after entering it – the structure of the building had been altered too much – and instead settled on navigating by instinct. Had his quarry been anyone else, he knew he would have been in trouble. Yet if there was one thing he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was Draco Malfoy; the world and the buildings within it could change a hundred thousand times, but Draco Malfoy would always be the same. He knew that his other self would have demanded the highest room the Dark Lord would allow him, the better to look down on the world and enjoy his arrogantly misguided feeling of superiority. The task only remained to find that room.

Had he been able to do so, Draco would have asked Fawkes for a detailed description of the castle's layout. It was one thing not to care if he was seen due to a certainty that he would soon be ceasing to exist anyway. It was quite another to be careless because of stupidity. But the phoenix had withdrawn from his mind the moment he had emerged from the woods. The link between them remained; he could feel it in the back of his mind, like the fragile strands of a cobweb woven of light, yet the presence of fire had vanished. Draco was glad for the absence.

There were some things that needed to be done alone.

Even as the dark, predatory grin began to crawl over Draco's lips, he became aware that he was standing motionless in front of a door; an ordinary, unadorned, and unremarkable door that looked as if it was as likely to lead to the kitchen as it was to the broom closet. He did not need to wonder about what lurked beyond it. He could feel _him_, the other Malfoy's presence coursing over him like a draft of air, prickling his skin. The grin melted into a feral snarl, an unconscious baring of the teeth that spoke of a time ages past when the line that separated the two-legged creatures from the four-legged was very thin indeed.

Draco pointed a finger at the door. _The mirror breaks now._

It was an ordinary door. Unadorned with distinguished markings or gaudy ornamentation. Unremarkable wood that had not been treated with spells or charms. It was an ordinary door. And it disintegrated as the wizard's power broke over it.

Stepping through the doorway, Draco moved into the outer quarters of his counterpart, his eyes sweeping over the objects and furnishings scattered about, uninterested in the evidence of the life he could have been living. There was only one thing he sought. And then, as the shadows rippled in the archway of the sleeping quarters, he found himself looking directly at it: grey eyes, wide with shock and confusion, which looked exactly like his own.

"What is… How can… W-who are you?" The words emerged haltingly, stumbling out of a mouth so disarmed that it forgot about its pretensions of elegance.

By contrast, Draco's voice was honeyed poison, sliding between his lips with the smoothness of silk. "The reflection in the shattered mirror."

"W-what?" Naked fear flashed across a pale, gape-jawed face.

Draco's words were tinged with a scorn he did not attempt to conceal. "I am you, Draco Malfoy. I am what you would have been, had the Dark Lord lost the war."

It was those words, the implication that the current regime was not as powerful as it pretended to be, that drained the surprise out of the icy eyes. Offended anger quickly moved in to take its place. "The Dark Lord didn't lose!"

"Not in this world, you complacent little fool," Draco snapped harshly. "You sit here, secure in the hall of our most hated adversary, and you speak as if I lack the eyes with which to see it. I can see your victory. I speak of _my_ world. The one in which Dumbledore reigns and the wretched Brat Who Lives ever hunts us."

The eyes narrowed thoughtfully, the anger fading into a semblance of shrewd contemplation. "You truly come from another world? This isn't some kind of trick?"

"Perhaps I should be pleased that we were defeated," Draco sneered, his lip curling in derision. "Else I might have grown as soft and mindless as _you_. Have you forgotten how to sense the power? In your freedom, have you become as blind as those who follow Dumbledore?" He flung open his arms. "Is this an illusion created by a dose of polyjuice? Or am I real?"

Head cocked to the side in a manner as familiar to Draco as the sensation of breathing, the Other took a step toward him. Then another. Soon he had crossed the space separating them, gaze roaming over Draco's body, taking in the features that he saw every time he looked into the mirror. His movements grew more confident as his uncertainty disappeared, and soon he was circling Draco with the grace of a hunting cat. The difference between them, so obvious at the beginning when shock had made the Other clumsy, was gone.

"Remarkable," the Other whispered as he came to a stop in front of Draco. His eyes traveled back up and met Draco's own. Reaching out a hand, the Other ran his fingers over Draco's cheekbone and down the side of his face. For his part, Draco bore the unwanted touch stoically, staring coldly into the Other's eyes. A moment passed as they stared at each other, and then the Other's eyes slid down to rest on the scar at Draco's throat. "What happened?"

Without consciously deciding to do it, Draco caught the Other's thin wrist. "Do not touch it."

The Other's eyes widened, first in surprise and then with teasing levity. "What is it? A badge of honor?"

"I mean it," Draco hissed, his hand tightening on the Other's wrist in warning.

A small smile playing over the corners of his lips, the Other stepped back and held up his free hand in surrender. "Of course. I meant no insult."

Draco's eyes narrowed, but he released his grip and pushed the offending hand away. His arms dropped to his sides, a gesture that clearly spoke of his lack of concern about the possible danger his counterpart might pose to him. He knew it did not go unnoticed.

The Other's smile sharpened to a razor's edge. "This world of yours…"

"Is not for you to conquer," Draco finished brusquely, knowing all too well the way in which his mind worked. "They overcame the power of the Dark Lord. You would be no challenge to them. No, it is _my_ world. You already possess what I seek."

"And what is that?" The question was condescending, as if the Other had figured out what he believed to be an embarrassingly transparent plan.

"A world where we are free. A world where the Muggles have learned their place under our heel. A world where we are the masters. A world without _Harry Potter_."

"So you have come to take mine?" the Other asked in arrogant amusement. "Did you really think you could replace me? That no one would suspect?"

Draco stared at him in silence before breaking into laughter, the sound so harsh and eerily high that the Other's superior smile faltered and faded away. "Out of all the worlds, you truly think I would want _this_ one? Your hauteur is unbecoming, Draco. I want _my_ world. So I came here to learn how it was that you succeeded where we failed."

The Other's gaze grew suspicious. "How did you know this world existed?"

"For every choice, there is an outcome. For every fork in the path, a destination," Draco told him mockingly. "Were you not paying attention in class during the topic of time travel?"

"We didn't have a class about-"

"Do you think we gave up?" Draco cut him off sharply. "Do you think we pledged our allegiance to Dumbledore as soon as the Dark Lord was defeated? No! We carried on! We discovered a way to ensure that the Dark Lord triumphed! And so I am here, on behalf of those loyal to the cause, to ask for your help. Help us do what you have done here. Tell me what happened. Tell me how the Dark Lord won. Save my world, as your world has been saved."

As a child raised to believe that he was entitled to his every desire, that the world should bend over backward give him everything he wanted simply because he wanted it, Draco's pride was susceptible to flattery. As an adult who had found himself on the winning side of a war and received the spoils heaped at his feet, Draco's pride was still vulnerable to those who came to him in supplication. A look of benevolence settled over the Other's features.

"Of _course_ I'll save your world for you," the Other said magnanimously, moving closer and placing a solicitous hand on Draco's arm. "After all, we _are_ the same, aren't we?"

Draco gave him a small smile that was two parts gratitude and one part relief. "My world is a terrible place. We skulk through the shadows, fearful of discovery. Your help will allow us to regain our pride and our freedom. We will be in your debt."

"Oh?" The Other's eyebrow rose in feigned surprise. "Well then, perhaps a small _exchange_ can be made, hmm? Just a little something for making you a hero?"

Without having to ask, Draco knew exactly what the Other was implying. "Of course," he responded easily, flashing his counterpart a dangerous smile that he knew would be misunderstood. "We _do_ have to look out for ourselves, don't we?"

"Quite so," the Other replied, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Though I should warn you, the battle was not as great and glorious as you might expect from the tale of the Dark Lord's triumph."

Draco's eyebrow rose. "I don't understand," he responded, puzzled. "In my world, there was fierce fighting here. The Dark Lord himself led us as we attacked the school from without and within, seeking to destroy Dumbledore's bastion of strength. Dumbledore's people, instead of being terrified and disorganized by the assault, were prepared and the fight ranged from one end of the grounds to the other. There was a great deal of damage and many casualties on both sides. It was here that the Dark Lord fell to Potter."

The Other was nodding along with Draco's recitation of the conflict. "And so it happened here as well. But in those final moments, when he was confronted with the Dark Lord in all of his magnificence, no longer weak from his resurrection, Potter hesitated."

In the ensuing silence, those two words – _Potter hesitated _– seemed to echo deafeningly.

"What?" Draco finally managed to ask, the question sounding more like an exhalation of air whispering over his lips than a consciously constructed response.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" the Other patted Draco's arm in commiseration. "After all the fuss over the prophecy and the Boy Who Lived, you'd have thought the little idiot would have put up a fight. All the hiding, the secret meetings, and the planning, and for what? Potter just standing there like a half-wit, not even bothering to defend himself."

"But why?" Draco demanded, shaking his head in frustration. "What was the difference? In my world, he fought. And here, he didn't. It doesn't make any sense. And it doesn't help me. How am I supposed to change the past when I don't know why he acted in one world and not in the other?"

The Other shrugged. "As far as I know, no one knows what happened. I suppose I could've asked him, _convinced_ Potter to tell me while he was still alive, but it wasn't until a few months later that I started to wonder about it. By then, Potter was dead. And even if he hadn't been, I doubt there would have been anything left to answer my questions." The Other's eyes took on a faraway gleam and a pleasure-filled smile lifted the corners of his lips. "Ah, but that was a wonderful two weeks. The things we did to him. The Dark Lord went first, of course, took his revenge on the brat for nearly killing him all those years ago. And when he was finished with him, the Dark Lord gave him to us. I'll have to tell you the details, give you some pointers on what to do with him once he's been broken."

"That isn't going to happen if that's all the information you can give me," Draco snapped harshly, giving the Other a shake that brought him out of his reverie. "I need to know _why_ Potter hesitated."

"I don't _know_ why," the Other retorted irritably, sounding as if he did not enjoy the rough treatment. "All I have is speculation."

"Speculation is better than nothing."

The Other seemed to wither slightly at the frigid tone of Draco's voice. "Most of the Death Eaters think it was because he was just weak, that the stories about his power were lies told by Dumbledore to try to scare us. Maybe there's some truth to that. But I always thought it was because he didn't expect the Dark Lord to kill Snape."

"The Dark Lord killed Snape?" Draco repeated softly.

"You mean he's still alive in your world?" the Other inquired curiously.

"Yes…" Draco answered slowly.

"The Dark Lord let the traitor live?"

"What are you talking about?"

The Other's eyes were wide. "You didn't know! Snape was a traitor. He claimed to be loyal to the Dark Lord, but he wasn't. He was a spy for Dumbledore!"

Draco snorted dismissively. "Of course he was. That was the point. By pretending to be on the other side, he was able to get close to Dumbledore, he was able to get the old man to trust him enough to let him into his circle of followers. He couldn't very well do that if Dumbledore suspected that he was really working for the Dark Lord."

"That's what he told _us_," the Other argued, shaking his head. "But it went one step further. In reality, Snape was spying on us for Dumbledore. He would attend our meetings, he would listen to our plans, he would convince us of his loyalty by revealing what we now know to be trifling bits of inconsequential information, and then he would report back to Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix. We were betrayed."

Plausible though the explanation was, it did not account for Potter's behavior. Draco regarded his counterpart skeptically. "Perhaps he was a spy for other side. He is a clever man; I would not put it past him to orchestrate such a charade. Yet the connection with Potter escapes me. Thus far, our worlds bare a striking similarity to one another and I can only assume that your version of Potter hated Snape just as much as mine did. I can't believe he gave a damn that Snape died."

"Oh no, I don't think it was concern. I think it just surprised him. Either he didn't know that Snape was connected with the Dark Lord and found out during the battle, or he knew and he thought Snape was on the Dark Lord's side. Just like everything else that surrounded the Brat Who Isn't Living Anymore, I think it was an accident."

"The Dark Lord killed Snape. Potter was so surprised that he just stood there and let the Dark Lord capture him. Is that what you are telling me happened that night?" Draco's eyes were narrow slits, his voice calm and flat.

"That's the difference, isn't it?" the Other answered, not appearing to notice Draco's tone or if he did, not thinking anything of it. "The traitor's alive in your world. He's dead in mine. He died on the same night Potter did nothing in his last fight with the Dark Lord. He didn't die in yours, and Potter won. If you ask me, all you have to do is kill Snape."

There was silence then, as Draco scrutinized his counterpart closely, searching his eyes for the truth of what really happened that night. The Other returned the stare with bland indifference, secure in the knowledge that he was not lying. At least, not this time. Finally, the ghost of a grin flickered over Draco's face.

"You have given me the means to save my world," Draco told him as he reached out and touched the face that might have been his had he chosen a different path. "For that, I give you my thanks. And I give you the gift that only I can."

Too late, the Other sensed that something was not quite right. A flash in his eyes? The tone of his voice? Something he had said that only now did not ring true? Draco did not know. Nor did he care. His grip tightened, holding his counterpart in place even as the Other struggled against him. There were many things Draco could have said to him then, many things that he would have wanted to say if only the situation had been different. But it was not. And there were so many 'if onlys' piling up in Draco's life that one more, especially one so small and unimportant, was not enough.

Looking into his eyes one last time, Draco smiled.

"_Avada_ _Kedavra._"

A flash of green light so bright it temporarily blinded him, and the mirror shattered. The sound of the shards dropping to the floor was a muffled thud.

The spots fading from his vision, Draco looked down at the body that lay at his feet. It felt as if he stood there forever, staring at himself, unable to move or speak or think. A minute passed. Another. And then the paralysis vanished. The tremors started slowly, barely felt as they moved through his limbs and his spine, growing stronger with every repetition until he was shaking so badly he could not move. In his mind, he could see himself walking toward the castle, going inside, and wandering down the halls. He watched as he spoke with himself, each word bringing yet another horror. He felt the hatred rise until it threatened to smother him. He saw the world explode into viridian light. And still the hatred did not recede.

As if it had been him, Draco watched as the Death Eaters swarmed over Hogwarts. He felt a vindictive flush of triumph when the news came that Severus had been struck down by Voldemort and Potter had been captured. He watched with pleasure as the Dark Lord exacted his revenge, listening to Harry's screams with the enjoyment of one who hears a masterpiece of musical accomplishment. He felt his satisfaction when the Dark Lord gave Potter to him and he paid his former classmate back for shunning him as a boy, for mocking him, for getting in his way, for working against him, not caring that by the end of it, Potter's eyes were more dead than alive. And he heard his voice, negligently telling himself what he needed to do to create the life he had just lived.

"_All you have to do is kill Snape."_

The hatred roiled through him like a wildfire. He would erase this world from existence, this place that had been bought with the blood and the pain of everything for which he had ever cared. He would burn it from the past. He would not let it grow to become the future. This world and everything in it would be ash.

The hatred flared.

Draco hissed. At first, it was an unintelligible sound of anger. Later, as the sound began to die away, it resolved itself into a word.

"Burn."

The world erupted in flame.

* * *

Author's Note:

First and foremost, I would like to apologize to everyone for allowing so much time to pass between the last chapter and this one. A great deal happened in my life and I was unable to find the energy necessary to write. The rest of _Written in the Sand_ will be finished much more quickly.

Secondly, I would like to thank everyone who has had the patience to stick with this story for so long. I know I started it years ago. If at all possible, I would like to finish E&A by the end of this year. Whether I manage to do that or not, I do know that I will be much further along by the end of the year.

Thirdly, I wanted to place a translation for the Latin that I used in the middle of the chapter. _Morituri te salutamus_ – we who are about to die salute thee.

And lastly, I take full responsibility for all of the errors, grammatical or otherwise, in this chapter. Due to how long it took me to finish it, I thought it best to forego asking someone to beta it.


End file.
